Hetalia : Aqua Planet
by Lolita Rafane
Summary: World War II was history. With a recently recovered 'message' from the past, the start of World War III might be soon. Each of them desperately tried to interprete the message in their own ways. Some fight to win, some fight to prevent the war. Their newly discovered powers might be the key to face the coming disaster, but every blessing comes with an equal price to pay.
1. World Alterations By Memories

**A/N : Warning! This fanfic may be a little off from the original Hetalia laws. The whole story had been greatly modified to match one of fantasy. Pairing depends. Request for future storyline is accepted unless the story had been developed to a point where it can no longer be changed. My first fanfic and it is only today that I'd typed it down. I wrote this on paper all this time~ Ah~ And one OC will appear in later chapters, one that is different from all the OC out there~ Well... She was already created, but not the way I pictured. So this OC is my OC and will only appear at the almost-end of the story~ Ahaha~ Evil OC is evil~ **

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Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 1 - World Alterations By Memories

Italy observed the war between nations, completely expressionless. As he floated still in the sky above, he can do nothing more but to hold his white flag in a tight grip. He tried to hoist it up, but the world was too stubborn to lower their guns. In the midst of chaos, he whispered.

_ Won't it be easier if we just surrender…?_

"Hey… Italy… Italyyy… Italia Veneziano… I'LL KICK YOU OUT OF MY COUNTRY IF YOU DON'T START TRAINING!"

The soft whisper he heard became a sudden burst of threat. When he opened his eyes, Germany was in front of him. Nothing about him seemed to change. The Germany that stood in front of him was nothing like the Germany in his dream.

_ A dream… Thank goodness it was all just a dream…_

Thinking about the Germany that took him in would ended up leading armies and pledged a war against the world, Italy can't stop the little drops of tears that glided down his cheeks. He smiled, hoping that it would hide his foul thoughts. Somehow, something about Italy's smiling face bothered the german.

"Italy… We have to start training now." said the german in his deepest voice possible.

Italy didn't protest like he always did. He just continued on smiling a smile so innocent. that alone was enough to creep the nerves out of Germany. Not even a single sign of complaint. Not even his normal 've' sound.

"Oi, Italy… What's wrong with you today? You're not usually this-"

"I'm fine, Germany! There is nothing wrong with me! Thee is absolutely nothing wrong with this world, see?!"

A lie… Obviously a lie that the italian tried to hide. Even if Italy wanted to say something, nothing will change. A dream where you see all your friends killing each other is not a sight you want to share to anyone.

"If you're not feeling well, I can find another day for training. I'll call Japan and-"

" You don't need to do that. Can't waste Japan's effort of coming all this way. "

"This is no laughing matter! Don't behave like a spoilt brat!"

Italy stood up and banged his palms on the table he was using as a pillow a moment ago, his smile slowly disappearing. But he tried his best to smile anyway, but ultimately failed in the end, almost bursting into tears. He wiped his tears with his sleeve. Germany never seen Italy - the idiot, whining, weak, woman and pasta loving freak acted this way before. It was as if Italy actually struggled to fight for real for the first time. Germany wanted to pat him, but his hand suddenly froze just above the italian's head.

"This is not funny, Italy! What is the matter with you?! I got into this much trouble just to-"

"PLEASE STOP SCREAMING! Okay…?". Italy was smiling as his usual self again. Germany gave out a sigh of relief. Italy continued.

"I'll make pasta for us! Everybody loves pasta! Ah! I'll sing a song while cooking then! Ve~ Hatafutte, hatafutte, hatafutte, paredo~ Hum! Hum! Hum!" sang Italy as he skipped out of the room.

Germany was alone there, or so everybody thought.

Japan crawled out from under the table. He dusted the particles of grey spots off his white uniform, looking as serious as ever. "Germany-san. Italy-kun… Something is definitely wrong with Italy-kun… Could it be that he was actually listening in our last world conference a year ago?"

"It couldn't be… This is Italy we're talking about." sounded the german. "He won't care unless it is about running away or pasta! Argh! He's nothing but trouble!"

"I know I am in no place to ask this. But… When will you tell Italy-kun about the war?" Japan made sure to avoid eye contact when he asked that question.

The fact that Germany didn't want to involve Italy in the war was written all over his face. He seemed to b blaming himself for what was happening. Japan was too afraid to say anything since he might make matters worse. Germany finally broke the silence.

"I won't let him go… I was thinking of making him surrender his right as a country and be one with mine. That is the only way for him to be safe." Germany's voice shook as if he was struck by anxiety. "And I stand her today, to ask you, Japan, if you would like to be one with me too." Germany lifted his hand towards the japanese man, waiting for the other to take is offer.

If the offer was taken, chances of survival would be higher, but Japan would no longer be an independent country. On the other hand, Germany wasn't a bad country either. Together with Italy, they had been the Axis Powers for years. All those times bought them good and closer together. But surrendering without a fight was definitely not an option for Japan. He reached out for Germany's hand, only to refuse his offer. "I'll be more happy to fight beside you as your friend, Germany-san. But I'm afraid my people are not ready… I'll fight in my own way. You don't have to worry about me. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. However, I am worried about Italy-kun…"

.

Italy happily made pasta. He shown no care to the outside world. A small yellow bird flew into the kitchen through the window and sat on his head. It seemed familiar in both good and bad way. "I see you're hungry too, Mister Birdy! Want some pasta?"

The bird flew away and out. Italy felt sad to see the creature left him just like that. The pasta was done. He served them on two white plates he found in Germany's kitchen. He laid them on the dining table. Germany and Japan wasn't around, so he had to eat the two large plate of pasta alone. "Ah, well! More for me! Ve~"

"Pasta, huh?! West once mention about italian pasta! Never tasted one myself though!" screeched a piercing voice. Italy dropped his fork and it clanked on the floor, leaving a small stain of tomato sauce. The sound was clear and clean as it echoed throughout the kitchen. Prussia pushed Italy's shoulder down, forcing him to sit on the wooden chair. He himself took the seat in front of Italy. The pasta served hot in front of them. " Italia Veneziano… You look well as usual!"

Italy was in fear to say anything in respond. He knew well enough about Prussia's power even though he was only one small part of Germany. Germany and Prussia were brothers. It kind of reminded him of Romano and himself. "I wonder if Prussia is a good brother to Germany…?" monologued Italy to himself.

Just by looking at Prussia's red eyes, his mouth automatically sealed shut. Prussia noticed the anxiety Italy was trying to hide. The prussian's eyes slowly closing in as if he would murder the other any second sooner.

"You… changed… You usually screamed for West's help every time you see my shadows! Ah! You must be dead scared, right?! That is the power of the awesome me, Prussia! Kesesesesese! My awesomeness surpasses all!"

Prussia immediately went into silence when Italy didn't even look at him. Even he felt weird about Italy's out of character manner. He took the plate and swallowed all the pasta in one go, leaving not even a single thread in sight. He stood up elegantly as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. It was the first time for Italy to see Prussia acting like a real gentleman. He headed towards the door but stopped at the doorstep to say something without looking back.

"West hasn't told you anything yet, has he…?" With just that, Prussia left without a word.

Italy's appetite for his lovely pasta disappeared with Prussia when the prussian left through the door without a fight.

.

It was night-time. Italy already went back home. Japan decided to stay overnight at Germany's place. Since Italy left so suddenly earlier that day, his heart was left with worry. "No! A true japanese warrior will not let anything bother his state of mind!"

"Oh, really now?"

An unexpected guest. It was Prussia. He wasn't the type to visit and have a friendly chat with other people, especially with other nations. To suddenly come to the guest room was suspicious. Japan was prepared to draw out his katana he hid under blanket if he sensed further threats.

"Has West told Italy about anything yet?" asked Prussia in his rare serious voice.

Prussia's intentions seemed to be harmless. Japan was able to relax his body as he waited for words from the red-eyed guest.

"Kesesese! The poor fella is bound to find out one day, you know?"

"Telling me this will not make a difference, Prussia-san. But why are to saying this to me?"

"West refused to listen to me. I told him to tell Italy the truth, but he won't. I know I am awesome, but Italy don't trust me the way he trusted West."

Another shock for Japan. The conversation grew odd as it progressed. Asking about Italy out of the blue would scare even the serious of all people. He suspected a fight later, so he made his first move on the prussian first. In a blink of an eye, his katana was already hovering on the skin of Prussia's neck. Even so, Prussia did not flinch. He just stood there, expressionless yet his eyes stared at Japan as though he saw every hidden secrets under those dark asian eyes. "Why do you want Italy-kun to know about the war? Why is Germany-san involved?"

"It's because of West getting involved that I want Italy to know. We are all bound to fight in this war. And I want Italy to fight his own battles."

"Italy-kun can't handle any battles himself."

"I suggest you to cut your ties with Italy. He'll only be a burden to both you and West."

"Don't stagger our friendship!" yelled Japan. Even the cicadas outside quieted down for that very moment. "What do you get from all of this?!"

"The survival of my country. I won't let West or myself lose to anyone!"

Japan was confused with Prussia's every word. His true intention of visiting was still unclear. It was as if Prussia is bending the truth in every sentence he made. Japan tried to figure out what was happening but his thought was disturbed by Prussia's elegant movement of opening the guest room window. "What is it that you're trying to hide from me, Prussia-san?"

Prussia remained silent. He didn't answer any question that was directed to him. "I guess… to prevent what West did wrong during Hitler's times…"

It was an odd answer. Since when did Prussia cared for the well-being of Germany to the extent of doing something this far? Asking that would be rude. Japan felt slightly insecure. He just thought of something disgraceful. A true japanese man seek equality and harmony in everything, not destroying what was already beautiful. "Prussia-san… You changed…"

"I am as awesome as awesome can ever be! But you may be right… The coming war is changing us… Changing all of us who will be involved in the battle."

"Are you trying to say that if Italy-kun is involved, he would change into someone stronger?"

"No. Like I said. I want to prevent one major mistake. And Italy might be dragged down or will drag us down… Either way is bad…"

"Italy-kun isn't weak… I'm sure he has a history where his power are limitless. Our newly found powers may well be based on the point of history where we were once the strongest."

"Save the lecture for the poor italian, Japan. West and I already found ours…"

Another shock for Japan. To think that Germany found his powers within one year's time...

"What's wrong? Don't tell me that West didn't tell you anything? Well… you'll find out soon enough… I'm out of here… Everything had been a mess since that stupid world conference. Since then, West didn't even discuss anything to me about the war's progress… I warned you, Japan…"

Prussia left the room followed behind by a tiny yellow bird. Japan didn't move. The katana was still drawn out. He felt absolute fear. It was obvious just by the way his katana trembled.

"Change, is it?"

.

"Ve… I want pasta… I should cook right now~ Hmm. Maybe _fratello_ want some too~"

Italy stood up to head for the kitchen, but he cannot move his legs. He wondered what went wrong. That was the moment he saw blurry visions of him sitting on a throne with Romano. Millions of people worshipped them. Romano responded merrily to the people's cheers while he himself was there sitting, unsatisfied, bored, eyes full of rage as if he was waiting to watch everyone's death. Then something happened.

"WHOAA!"

.

Romano accidentally dropped the teacup he was holding and it shattered on the floor. The scream he heard was definitely his younger brother. He quickly ran towards Italy's room. He didn't care for the things he knocked down. His mind filled with panic made it harder for him to keep his balance while running. "That was definitely Veneziano's voice!"

Romano kicked the door of Italy's room open without warning. He found Italy on the floor, trembling in fear. The table was toppled over on the floor, the chairs thrown across the room, all the picture frames that used to be hanging on the wall, broken. The bed and Italy's uniforms in the closet were in shreds. To put it simple, the room was a complete mess. Romano went to Italy's side and held his shoulders. "Oi, Veneziano! What happened to you?!"

Italy looked like he was possessed. He seemed too scared to even hear Romano's voice. Romano shook Italy's shoulders as hard as he can, but Italy still refused to listen to anything. Italy began to resist and tried desperately to push Romano away.

"Veneziano! Oi! Stop struggling! Veneziano! Listen to me!" Romano delivered a quick strong slap to Italy's cheek. Italy stopped screaming and moving. He looked at Romano with his normal dumb face, looking as though nothing had happened. "Veneziano! Did you know what mess you've made?!" He expected an apology, like how his younger brother always did when something went wrong. Instead, Italy sprung up and hugged him tightly. Romano tried pushing him away, but he just wouldn't let go. "Now! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"_Fratello_… I have a weird dream. In that dream, both of us sat on a throne, wearing all white with a pretty golden staff in hand. Millions of people adoring us. You look happy… But I… But I… I don't want to be like that…" The younger italian slowly sunk his head into his brother's chest, silently sobbing his tears out.

"Oi… Just don't think about this any more… Let's go… You'll sleep in my room while we get yours fixed."

"Hey, _fratello_…? It was all just a dream, _si_…? That really won't happen, _s_-_si_…?"

Romano quickly covered Italy with his blazer. He escorted him out of the room in a hurry, hand in hand.

_ It was all just a dream, si…?_

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**A/N : And that's it ~=3=)~. I don't expect this story to be liked, but you know the feeling when you finally posted a chapter? Yes... That was the feeling I'm aiming for. I remembered I ran around the house after posting chapter 4 of Memories Stronger Than God. And that feeling was epic! The feels of a chapter's completion... Yeah... That's what I want more than anything...**


	2. One Year Ago

**A/N : The first part is just a few 'point of views'. feel free to skip them. But reading them wouldn't hurt, right? Especially if that will be their last time goofing around like that...**

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Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 2 : One Year Ago

After Prussia left, Japan threw his katana aside, the blade clanking on the floor. He laid on the bed, feeling a mixture of hard emotion of everything inside of him. He tried humming himself to sleep, but the emotions simply refused to cease down.

He finally decided to call one person that might calm him down. He dialed the first number in his phone list.

"Japan… Good evening" said the person sleepily over the phone.

"Greece-san…? This is Japan… Ah! Of course I'm Japan. I-You… I-… " Japan let out a sigh of defeat. "Can I come over to your place tomorrow…? A lot had happened and I don't want to go back to my country just yet…"

"A lot, huh…? How was your plan to negotiate with Germany…?" Greece said, sounding wide awake. Japan could hear the sound of Greece shifting himself from the bed. He didn't answer the grecian's question, laying on the bed unmoved. "Japan…? Are you still there?"

"Hai… And about Germany-san… I don't think I can ask him to surrender… He's my friend and Italy is too. I… " Another sigh. "It's hard to explain… And I want to escape everything for now…"

"It has been one year since the conference, hasn't it…?"

"Indeed, Greece-san… Indeed…"

.

One year ago…

**GERMANY'S POV**

World meetings… who organized this anyway? Why can't they hold one when I'm not busy? My boss have this crazy invasion plan right now and I shouldn't be here! Argh! Pointless! For many years, all world conferences will only end up in chaos! Of course, America would tell us the big plan for something which made no sense. The others acted as their usual self, fighting with other countries. Why can't they sit still and act like real soldiers? With nothing else better to do, I looked at the Italy brothers. *chuckle* Italy scolded by Romano again… I bet it must be about tomato or pasta. Wait… Argh! I have no time to think about these kind of things! And so, I waited patiently for the host to arrive. America again, perhaps?

**JAPAN'S POV**

I hope everyone enjoyed themselves. They seemed busy with their own work. Russia-san just sat there, smiling like an angel. Ah! China-san told me about Russia-san's true colours! I must be extra careful around him. France-san looks good in his odd fashion. I wish to travel there again if opportunity comes. America and England fought over something. No matter how much they argue, they seemed to be under good conditions together. America-san… America-san… Ah! If he's here… Who would host the meeting? Just when I was about to ask Germany-san the question, someone entered the meeting hall through the main door. Someone I knew very well…

**ROMANO'S POV**

That jerk Spain! He promised to bring me to Egypt with his new ship, but he ended up dumping me with Feliciano in this stupid meeting! _Che cazzo_! I don't see why I must go! I mean… Veneziano is here. He could fill me up with details later! Hmph! We're all basically enemies, so why meet up like this? Stupid! As if people screaming at each other was annoying enough, Veneziano began to draw weird pictures on the meeting papers and made that weird 've' noises again… Darn it! I can't hold this idiocy for much longer!

"Will you stop embarrassing yourself, Veneziano?!"

"Look,_ fratello_! I drew you, me, big brother France and the others back when we're still cute and small! Ve~"

"Quit messing around! Those papers are for the meeting! Show your brain as a country, dammit!"

Italy made that almost-crying face again! I hate it when he does that… That jerk!

"I just want us to be together like we used to… Ve…"

Sheesh! He made that face! THAT FACE THAT I REALLY HATE! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! I have no choice but to comfort him by patting his head. He better pay me back for this! At least he seemed a little bit happier. I looked away to avoid eye contact with him. Che! That was the very moment I accidentally touched his private hair. He clutched around me tightly, complaining on how much it hurts him. Awful luck, I don't know how it happened, but mine got tangled with his! Fuck! He made me feel funny! France was the one to untangle us before the meeting started. Veneziano continued his drawings, obviously will not listen to the meeting later on…

**ITALY'S POV**

Ve~

**ENGLAND'S POV**

Of all people, why must America and that frog sit beside me? Sandwiched by the two of them, I feel polluted, if 'polluted' is the right word… To avoid trouble, I didn't listen or respond to anyone until the meeting began. But looking around, I feel left out. They seem to have something to do. I'm here, all alone and thinking like an old man. Well… Maybe I am one…

"Don't worry, England! We're here to support you! You'll never be alone!"

"Flying mint bunny! And the other fairies! You all came all the way here just to see me?"

I feel touched! They travelled such a great distance just to support me in this meeting! Where the bloody hell will I end up to without them!

"Thank you, my friends! I don't know what to say!"

"Oh, England! We love your scones! Make some for us when we get back, okay?"

"Of course! Anything for my dear and loyal friends! Hahahaha~"

France and America freaked out. Like always, they teased me and said mean stuff about Flying Mint Bunny and the others. Things didn't turn out so well. I threw things at America and France wandered off to Italy's tale. I noticed that the whole room became silent, including America and I when the host entered the room. I never thought that the host would be…

**AMERICA'S POV**

I know from the start would be a disaster! I'm the Hero! Without the hero, nothing will ever be well! Anyway, the only reason why I sat beside England is because the other seats were already occupied by the other countries. He complained about why I sat beside him and said something about him not talking to anyone before the meeting. After hearing that, of course I'm pissed! So I turned away from his annoying face, planning to stay that way but didn't. It wasn't that I want to start the 'conversation'. I mean, it wasn't my fault that he suddenly talked to himself. England and his annoying eyebrows are… well… just huge and annoying, ok?! I told him to shut his crap unknown imagination. From him… Signs of defeat? Wow! I'm kinda proud of myself for bringing him to the good side! I am the Hero after all! Hahahaha!

"Hey… You do know that you muttered your nonsense loudly since you started, right?" Switzerland pointed his gun at me as he spoke of those untrue words. The hero never goes wrong! After a short series of fighting with EYEBROWS, the conference host arrived, looking quite messy.

"You don't have to emphasize the word 'eyebrow', you bloody git!" whispered England, But I won't call it a whisper. It was more like a yelling. "Bloody hell?! I told you to shut up!"

"What the…?! Did you read my mind?!"

Switzerland shot us a look. I guess we should really shut up…

**FRANCE'S POV**

Hmm… A beautiful face like mine deserves a beautiful flower, no? Ah… After the conference, I would flutter home and sit under the radiant sun. Everyone here seemed to be themselves. Ignorant people, do they not know love is a blissful blessing? If love is accepted by everyone, these world conferences will no longer be necessary! Everyone will be happy! Everyone can be beautiful! But of course, nothing can be more beautiful than France, the country of love! I was just admiring love when England interrupted me with his creepy 'lonely talks'. It freaked me out! But I can't help but to tease him a little. It was fun while it lasted. He threw things at me and America, my buddy to tease England! I'm not chickening out or anything. Watching the Italy brothers got their bizarre curls stuck together was too irresistible that I had to abandon my fight with England. Whoa…! Touching the Italy brothers likes this makes me feel needed as a big brother! I untangled their curls, so adorable!

"Don't worry… Big brother France is here to take care of you!" I leaned over to kiss Italy's forehead but stopped by the older italian brother. Ohonhonhon? Is this jealousy I detect?

"Jerk! If you want to kiss that idiot _fratello _of mine, do it somewhere else! Not in front of my face, dammit!"

Then again, maybe not…

"You're too mean, Romano… Where's your love, right, Italy?"

"Ve… Whatever you say, big brother France! _Fratello…_ You should show more love!"

"What?! Dammit! You actually listened to that jerk's words and not me?! Stupid Veneziano!"

"Wa! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that to you! Wa! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

" You better be, you jerk…" Romano looked away from his brother. Maybe this is brotherly love after all? How I wanted to watch the two brothers continue their cute act. But the host of today's conference arrived. That person… Ohonhonhon? Well… This is a first! It's…

**CHINA'S POV**

AIYAAH! Another world conference! America must be the one leading this chaos again! Global warming-aru! That had always been the first thing we discussed. Sadly, never once there had been a second topic of discussion-aru… Once we start with our first topic, we'll stuck in THAT topic forever-aru! *sigh* Their energy worn me out. I felt tired around them regardless of who they are… Axis Powers, Allied Forces! They should respect their elders-aru! Watching the world grow so fast these past 4000 years was quite a touching moment-aru… No! I must not cry!

"China… Are you alright…? Want to sit beside me?"

"I am sitting right beside you… Please don't disturb me-aru…"

"Hmmm…? But you seemed so disturbed…! You can share anything with me… We're friends, da?"

"Don't talk like that-aru! We're the Allied Forces! But I won't let my guard down around you-aru!"

I can't help but to blush and turn away. I have to admit… Although he had this scary appearance, and the fact that he can kill you anytime, he can sometimes be sweet and thoughtful.

"You'll be one with Mother Russia, da?"

This man really scares me. But his smile… Aiyah! I'm getting old-aru! It doesn't matter! I moved my chair a little bit closer to Russia. He only smiled, saying nothing afterwards-aru. A few moments later, the unrevealed country that was believed to be the one to host today's conference came. Usually, it would be America, but today is an exception?

**RUSSIA'S POV**

This is interesting. I get to meet other countries besides the Allies again today. Unfortunately, not all attended. Come to think of it, I haven't meet all of the world. But that won't be a problem. Though things might get a little bit boring… Lithuania should come with me. Or maybe Latvia. I want them to entertain me… Entertain me… Entertain me… Kolkolkolkolkol…

"Aiyah… I must not cry-aru…" mumbled China to himself. I don't think he knew what he just did. *chuckle* I guess age took over his mind.

"China, are you alright…? Want to sit beside me?"

" I am sitting beside you… Please don't disturb me-aru…"

What a cute response… I have to get this country in my grasp one day… I teased him a bit further and he finally moved a bit closer. Won't it be nice if everyone played along like this? Soon, the host country came. Ah! I know him! He doesn't appear much, but it's definitely him! Who would have thought. The host country would be none other than Greece.

.

Silence filled the room as Greece made his way to the main table. His just-woke-up face caught everyone's attention. Others were clueless of his motives. Never once was he the one to start a conference. No wonder the event was held in Athen's grounds. They should have guessed better. Plus, it was in the middle of September, an odd time for a gathering to take place.

"I should start now, right…? Well… What do i need to say…?" was the grecian's silence breaker.

"Bloody hell? You're the nameless host that assembled us together, Greece… You should've prepared something." England said his mind out loud. He hated it when something as serious as a world conference wasn't taken heavily.

"Greece-san… You can start by telling us why we're all here… " said Japan in an irresistible polite tone.

Greece snapped. His face was wide awake, but his gestures were as slow as ever. With his strong and muscular hands, he lifted a piece of stone tablet from under the table and laid it on the table for everyone to see. Ancient greek words were carved on the surface of the finely polished rock. Greece's expression that suddenly turned serious, making all who witnessed worry. Nobody could understand it. Nobody except for Greece alone.

"I would like to deliver a message…" slowly breathing a breath in and out before he continued, "from the past…"

China stood up, eyes full of doubt. For as long as he lived, he didn't remember anything about any so-called messages from the past. "Wait! I lived for more than 4000 years. I never heard of such nonsense before-aru!"

"Greece-san… Where did you find such stone…?" Japan said, clearly didn't like where he was leading the situation.

Greece finally spoke after a short pause, silencing the meeting hall and the outside nature. "This…" pointing to the tablet, "was found clean in one of my ruins… In the river… And the odd thing about this is…" once again stopping his sentence before he continued, as if he was running out of stamina, "the tablet was not made by the hands of my mother… It was… from somewhere else… But the letters written here are in ancient greek. Took me a while to figure out my old native language… And it's content…"

Japan was worried sick. He never seen the ever-so-sleepy Greece with such a serious and heavy expression on his face. He punched his fist hard on the table, startling everyone except for one specific italian country who seemed to be in his own little world. Before Japan could say anything further, Greece held his palm up towards Japan. Clearly he didn't want to be disturbed.

"Japan… This isn't my choice… It was coincidence for me to find this thing… But the whole situation is real…"

England tried to be the gentleman of the meeting. He sat up straight and voiced his thoughts out.

"Let us all hear his story first before making any further statement. This is the first conference hosted by Greece. So please, at least pay a little respect and let him finish." Each word England said were as though they were directed to Japan, and both sides knew well.

"Forgive me…" pleaded Japan, almost like he was ready to draw out his katana to shut someone up.

Being stopped in the middle of his talk made him lose his fast-paced progress. His eyes definitely tried their best to not look at Japan.

"Fellow countries. After days of translating, we finally found out that… our world will soon be at war. A war against each other… to find a king who will lead the world against great dark force that was once a part of this world. A dark force who will one day claim her place in this dying world. A revelation predicted to arrive soon as the dark queen drowns the world with the sea…"

Romano was traumatized by the whole speech. Everything spoken seemed like a story from a fairy tale book. He forced himself to shut up, waiting desperately for something, anything at all to break the tranquility of his soul. His younger brother beside him couldn't care less about the outside world as he scribbled all the given papers in front of him. "Spit out the conclusion of the meeting, you cat bastard!"

The grecian raised his voice for the first time. That was a surprise nobody expected. "The conclusion is, according to this message is that we have to find our hidden strength and use it against each other until there is only one standing country. For one to get these abilities, an equal price must be paid."

Romano probably freaked out at that moment even though he made no sound about it at all. He pulled the younger italian by the wrist out of the conference hall, not a word spoken. Italy seemed afraid of his brother's sudden pull. He followed quietly in confusion as the older brother lead him outside, away from the others.

France was a little bit worried about the two brothers. He gave Greece a look of unsatisfaction. "Monsieur Greece. No need to use that tone on the poor italian country."

"The fate of the whole world is at stake! Do you think this is a laughing matter? A revelation predicted as the dark queen drowns the world with the sea…" quoted the grecian. Greece never seemed so angry before, yet he still had that sleepy figure that made the others see him as a joke, especially to someone who seemed oblivious to the outside world suddenly talking about something that might worth nothing more than a myth.

The german, usually the one with the most sense stood up and pointed at the stone tablet. "How do you know that object is real…? About the whole hidden ability and whatever the price to pay? To be honest, none of this made sense. I don't see any reason why another world war should start."

Everyone began to chatter among themselves. What Germany said was true. What if all of this was a bluff? Some of the nations even gave the host some unfriendly glances. America stirred things up with one of his 'hero' plans. Greece was obviously not happy with the way everyone behaved. Once again, they took the matter too lightly.

Japan slowly and quietly made his way to Greece's side. To avoid other's attention, he hid under the table near the grecian. The meeting hall still filled with pointless arguments and tension.

The greek man finally calmed down. He gave Japan a smile so gentle that it made Japan immobilized. Greece wanted him to remain out of sight of everyone, so he pushed him back under the table when Japan tried to come out.

With just one lift of his arm, thunderclouds quickly formed outside the cracked ruin. Strong wind rushed into the building, causing every paper flying around wildly in a great speed. Some of them suffered minor papercuts. Rain began to pour heavily outside, making sounds similar to showering bullets against the fertile soil outside. "Whether or not to believe me is your choice. You are all warned beforehand… "

A bright flash of lightning temporarily blinded those in the meeting hall. Once their visions alleviated, Greece along with the odd tablet were no longer there. Japan wasn't there either, which sent everyone there questioning about what had happened. How can a single lift of arm summoned a typhoon? How is it possible for the slow-moving nation to suddenly disappear in a flash's time? Everything doesn't make any sense. Unless…

Unless everything spoken was the absolute truth.

"I… have to leave…" England made his way out of the hall. One by one the countries left without saying any words to each other. Those that left carried a shameful expression on their faces when they left the door.

At came to the time where only one nation remains in the tattered place, shredded papers everywhere on the floor, slightly soaked due to the rain. Nobody could probably guessed the identity of that lone nation.

"So the war finally starts again…?"

* * *

**A/N : Lame chapter is lame XD Might change the contents of this chapter if I'm able to fix my imagination tank in my brain XD**


	3. Courage And Disloyal

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 3 : Courage And Disloyal

China sat in front of an old abandoned shack, sipping chinese tea from a porcelain cup. Everything around was still with absolutely no movement. The sudden chill in the atmosphere gave away a certain nation's presence.

"China~ Hmm! I finally get to meet you!" hugged Russia from behind. Even in a hot day like that day, he would still wear his thick scarf.

"Get away-aru… We're not supposed to meet each other." China said, pushing the larger nation away from his radius. Russia seemed to ignore his warning, childishly dragging both of them down and almost fell. "I'm not joking…" The tone he used was off. It didn't sound like his usual self when he gets upset. That simple change was enough to make the russian back down.

Russia slowly released the strong grip between them, sitting beside the other nation. "You can at least say something nice after months of separation, China…" He rested his forehead on his fists, looking as if he was praying, but he was not.

"Both of our countries will be at war soon. I can't be seen around the enemy-aru." China stood up and began to walk away in a rather fast pace. Russia stood up just in time to grab him by the sleeve. "Aiyah! What are you doing-aru?! Get off!"

"You're ordered to kill me in sight by your boss, da…?"

China froze instantly. He turned around to face the smiling russian. Tears formed in the other's violet-dyed eyes. Having pity on the larger nation, he gave a quick yet reassuring sigh, patting the other's silver hair. "You don't have to cry-aru…"

"I'm not. It's just that Moscow is raining right now." protested Russia, sounding innocent and happy.

_ One smile can hide a million tears…_

"Liar…" The chinese nation laid his head gently on Russia's chest, making no attempts to fight whatsoever. He shifted his hand and intertwined with the other's fingers. "I'm happy to see you, Russia… "

_ Liar indeed…_

The smile on the russian's face disappeared, tears bursting pathetically as he laid his face on the chinese nation. He pulled the other nation closer into a tight embrace, letting out small sobs which was barely hearable to life around, yet so clear to the chinese nation in arms. "You don't have any idea how much I missed you… My mind is constantly disturbed by thoughts about you… I… I don't want to fight you or kill you as ordered by my boss… This is driving me insane…"

China didn't respond. His eyes shown no feelings inside. It was as if he cared for nothing about the russian. With a monotone voice, he answered. "I missed you too…"

"I beg of you, China, be one with Russia, da? For the last time, please accept… I-I…" Russia's voice cracked. Any words further might make him fall sick and throw up.

The chinese nation softly grabbed the other's hair, ensuring him that everything will be fine.

Or not.

"I'm sorry-aru… I lost… I am no longer a nation…"

Russia felt a sharp jolt of pain to his chest. China slowly backed away from him with blood-stained hands, face shown no regret. A long ancient chinese dagger stuck to the middle of his chest. Steadily, he pulled the dagger out, blood staining his long trench coat. The small wound wasn't enough to kill him, but it is enough to distract him for a few seconds. When Russia gazed to where he last saw the chinese nation, the other was no longer in sight.

That small wound was a painful reminder for Russia.

_ China was not his._

The light from the russian nation's eyes ceased to be visible. A raging swear shouted from his heart.

"I will bring you back, Wang Yao…"

.

"America… " shouted Canada which sounded nothing more than a whisper. "Listen to me…"

"No way, bro! I won't let you go with that stupid England! You're my brother, for goodness sake… You're supposed to fight by my side!" America, the number one in confidence nation, the heroic symbol for the world yelled like a sulking child to his neighboring nation, Canada.

"Oh! So now I'm your brother?! Where were you when I need you the most, Alfred F. Jones?! Tell me?! Where were you? And because of you, I'm constantly beaten by the others! We have the same face doesn't make me your blood brother!" The canadian snapped, delivering a strong punch to America. America on the other hand, fell hard onto the wooden floor of his own kitchen. Seeing the slightly swollen cheek of his brother, Canada realized what he had done. He took a few steps back, holding his own sinful hand close to his chest. "A-America… Forgive me… I-I didn't mean to say that. O-Of course we're brothers…"

"No…" whispered America. "This is my fault, anyway. Sorry for causing you nothin but trouble, dude…"

"I hope you'll understand why I chose England over you…" The canadian barely able to stay still, trembling like a directionless lost kitten.

America stood up, walking over to his brother's side and held his shoulder firm. "At least tell me why you're surrendering your right as a nation to England, Canad- … Matthew…"

"I cannot tell you… The cycle repeated way too many times for me to make another mistake… The path I chose when I'm with England prevented more death than possible compared to being with you…"

"Tch! Whatever man! I may not hurt you in the upcoming battle, but if you're to hurt my people, brothers or not, I WILL not hesitate to take you down…" growled America before running upstairs and locking the door behind him.

A sigh escaped the canadian's breath. "You're really are an idiot, America…" That was the last words he said as he left the american territory.

That day was the day their bond officially turned combatant.

.

The british nation laid pleasantly on a tall armchair facing the window, sipping his 'Earl Grey' tea. Out of pure silence, England spoke his permission. "Come in, Canada…"

Entering from the main door of the chamber was Canada. The radiance of his existence ceased to be seen completely, muffled by complete nothingness in the air. "How did you know it was me?" whispered his soft voice.

"I know when time flows, Canada."

"Please… It's Matthew Williams. I'm no longer a country, remember?" whispered the canadian again.

England placed his teacup on the arm of his chair. He stoop up to face the other ex-nation. "Well… I have to admit, Matthew is easier to remember than Canadia."

"It's Canada…" grunted the almost invisible figure. Even his sigh sounded like nothing more than the dying wind. "Anyway, do you have any plans against the others?"

"I feel like Russia is the biggest threat there is right now. Of course, I shall collect more forces before dealing with that bloody nation. And my first target would be Spain…" England handed over a brown envelope over to Canada, looking very serious about the matter. "And I want you to win against him…"

"U-Understood…" The canadian had no idea how he would win against a strong nation like Spain, mindlessly accepted the given envelope. "I just hope that this will not turn into a major bloodshed…" His words unsound.

"And one more thing, Matthew… Exactly what is your hidden ability?"

The ex-nation just stood there, smiling innocently. "Nothing big . Something that won't play an important role in this story."

In a blink of an eye, England was alone again, not sure whether the other had left or just became completely invisible like always. The brit threw himself tiredly on the chair, covering his face with a cushion. "America…"

.

"ROMA!" Spain bust himself in from the door and ran towards Romano for a hug.

That single call was enough to send the italian into utter annoyance. "Shut up, you tomato bastard! Get away from me!" Upon saying that, he still accepted the spaniard's hug.

"Ahaha~ Professional tsundere~" teased Spain.

"W-What did you just called me?!" instantly breaking the hug. "Shoo! I'm quite busy at the moment!" Romano pushed Spain to a distance and marched up to his piles of paperwork on the table.

"But Roma~ Boss haven't seen you in almost a month now~ Boss is getting lonely without his little tomato~" Spain once again hugged Romano from the back, this time even more gentle and slow. He rested his chin on the other's shoulder. "How are the both of you doing…? Have anyone pledge war against you two yet…?"

"No… What's with that awkward question, bastard…? Did your boss planned to fight against Italy…?" Even though he said that, his face remained emotionless, eyeing out only to his paperworks a few feet away.

"My boss decided to protect Italy just like the time before you left my house years ago. We decided that making you ours doesn't change anything, though it might stagger our diplomatic relationship. A friendly approach is always the best move, yes?"

"Whatever, you jerk… Listen… I'm busy preparing for those proposals… The other countries seemed nice lately… So fuck off." Romano shot one of his signature annoyed look. The always oblivious Spain was a little bit offended by the italian's words.

Feeling insecure, Spain only hugged Romano tighter, resting his forehead against the other's back. "I'm really happy to see you again, Italia Romano…"

The italian could feel droplets of the spaniard's tears wetting his uniform. He would usually punch him off or kick him away, yelling to him that he had dirtied his clothes. But just for that day, he did not. He wanted to tell Spain how happy he was too, but with everything in that chaotic pre-war state, every move he made were forced to be thought twice. If someone were to see the two independent nations together, the higher ups of Italy might get the wrong idea.

"Roma… Did you really hate me that much…? Did I treat you like a bad boss when you're still small…" Spain forced himself to wear a fake cracked smile, hoping no more unwanted tears escaping his eyes. "But I'm not lying… I really am not… Even if Roma hates me, I would still love my Roma. Roma will always be my Romano! Hate me if you must, but please don't stay silent like this…"

Turning his whole body around to face the spaniard, still in the tight and rather comfortable hug, Romano flicked the other's nose with his fingers. Being the victim, Spain shot back away from the italian, yelping in pain as the close contact between the both of them broke.

"I don't hate you or anything, you cheeky bastard." roughly running his hand through Spain's hair. "You raised me to what I am today, so shut the fuck up." The was Romano spoke was abnormally calm, bringing a cool, vibrant ring to the spaniard's ears. "This rotten and fucked up world is in a stupid war all thanks to that cat bastard's news… As always, you're too daft to realize how serious this matter really is, acting all oblivious and such!"

"But Roma-"

"Don't _but-Roma_ me, _pomodoro bastardi_!" Romano clasped the spaniard's cheeks with his palms in a fairly boisterous manner. "I…" He gradually brought Spain closer to himself, making their temples touch. "Don't show this side of you to anybody else except for me, you got that…?"

"What side of me?" asked the spaniard guiltlessly.

"The Spain side! The Spain who I know… The Spain who raised me… The Spain who is oblivious to everything, yet always so reassuring… The Spain who I grew to love…" susurrate the blushing italian, slowly closing his eyes. "I would normally ask you to throw away your heedless behavior, but I don't know where I would end up without you by my side…"

Spain's cheeks burned scarlet red, allowing the other to feel his sudden fever under their touch.

"_Per favore, Spagna_… If you don't, your approach might get you killed… " said Romano with a pleading tone.

"Anything you say, _mi querido… Prometo_…" It was Spain's turn to take care of his little henchman. He tenderly separated their close contact, pushing the italian benevolently towards the piles of work on the desk. "Now, now, Roma~ Don't let me bother your work~ I'll see you real soon…"

"Whatever, you jerk…" Romano began nailing his focus to the sheets of unsigned papers while the spaniard left, secretly waving the italian a small goodbye before closing the door.

Somehow, Romano could feel every movement of the other nation. He sighed, shakily gripping the fountain pen, keeping it hovered up just above the paper. Along with a small sigh, he muttered…

"_Cazzo_…"

.

Italy was happily making pasta for Romano and himself. He didn't realize about Spain's visit or had the slightest idea that his unfinished work was being done by his older brother, which the other insistently agreed to do for him. Lately, he got to do less and less work. At the same time, Romano seemed to be getting busier by the day. "Ve… I'll make pasta for _fratello_ so that he will have all the energy to finish his work~!"

He set the pasta two plates of freshly boiled pasta on the plate, making his way to the cupboard to get the bottle of pasta sauce. After grabbing the bottle, he felt a sudden feeling of dizziness. He laid the important ingredient on the counter, massaging his eyes with his fingers.

"Hmm… Am I that tired…? But I did little work today… " Abandoning the sauce, he walked over to one of the plate of pasta and stared down at it blankly, supporting his stance with his hands on the table. His large appetite he had just now disappeared in a moment's flat. "I guess I'm not that hungry after all…"

The italian closed his eyes, hoping that the disturbing sensation would disappear from his head soon. "Ve… " lifting one hand to feel his own heartbeat. "I wonder if _fratello_ feels the same too…"

When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to see the strings of pasta beautifully dyed in spots of red. "Huh…?"

He focused his gaze more to the deep color of the red. He finally knew that the red colors on the pasta was not tomato sauce.

It was blood.

Slowly shifting himself away from the object, the gliding drops of cold blood clearly felt against his skin. Subconsciously, he rustled his hands through his hair, feeling a sudden sharp pain somewhere at the right side of his head. When he looked at his hand, it was stained with a color he always fear. "Huh…? Where did this come from…?"

Dismay filled his heart. The bright world he saw a moment before slowly faded to gloom. The weak italian nation let his fragile body fall limp to the ground for his legs no longer had the strength to stand.

Before his connection to reality completely disappeared, he heard a shatter of something to the floor.

Minutes later, Romano came to the room. "Oi, Veneziano! What did you break this time?!"

Seeing the younger italian lying in a small puddle of blood around his head, his mind forced his own body to enter a state of panic, he darted to his dear _fratello's_ side.

.

Spain decided to stroll around Venezia as an old habit around something he grew attached to. Of all the places in Italy, of course he loved Rome the best, but he didn't forget about the rest of Italy.

The streets became quiet all of a sudden. The grey clouds hid the canvas of the falling sky. If observed clearly, no clean shadows can be seen. The mild wind blew all the tension in the air, bringing new sense of danger.

In front of his chanting green eyes stood one faultless figure. A figure so pure and innocent, yet reek of death.

"Canada! France's boy~! How are you doing?"

The canadian didn't answer. He just stood there, staring deeply down into the eyes of the spaniard. Silence warned the other that things will not be pretty.

In an instant, Spain let out a crooked smile, a smile so foul that one's stomach might clinch. Yet, the canadian remained stagnant. He drew out two blades from his belt and pointed them at the golden hair figure. "_Prometo_, Roma. I shall keep my promise."

"No you won't, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo…" whispered Canada. "Believe me, I know…"

The spaniard began to cough hard, feeling his chest and eyes to burn. He fell on his knees and covered his mouth with his bare hands, having no choice but to drop his only weapons. He tried to keep himself up with all his might, but the unknown stabs inside of him dragged his whole body down to the ground. Once he was well enough to coerce his eyes open, he could see that he had coughed up blood.

The smell of copper attacked his senses. He picked up the blades in rage, forcing his legs to stand. Limply dragging his feet towards the canadian, me muttered curses in Spanish.

"There's no use for this, Antonio…"

Before Spain could slide the tip of the blade across the other's neck, all his strength failed him as he dropped unconscience. A trail of blood could be seen starting from where the spaniard first fall.

A trail of blood reflecting his failed effort. A reminder of his disloyal.

Canada swiftly dialed his phone, his face unresponsive to the sight of everything.

"Speak." said the voice from the other side of the phone.

"The country of Spain is now under our possession. I asked the bombers in Milan to set the timer three hours ago. The bomb should explode by now…" The canadian paused to hear further orders before closing his flip-phone. "Understood…"

He carried the spaniard in arms, leaving the blood-stained pavement untouched. With a small gust of wind, both of them disappeared.

The people of Venezia began to appear in the streets. Their own disappearance from society was a mystery, yet it seemed that nobody noticed. And just like the mystery, nobody cared about the fresh crape of blood painted on the ground.

* * *

**A/N : Wah! Super exited to write this story! Just posting this chapter was enough to send me skyrocket to space, feeling all fluffy inside! Ah... An author's feels... I might not update any time soon, but I will! THIS, I SWEAR! AHAHAHAHA! **


	4. Checkmate

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Plane

Chapter 4 : Checkmate

"_Vaffanculo_, Veneziano…"

That was the first greeting Italy heard from his brother when he finally woke up. Apparently, he was in a hospital. He could tell just by the faint smell of antiseptic and iodine lingering in the air. When Italy tried to sit up, he shot back down due to the unbearable pain in his head.

"_F-Fratello_…!" shouted the younger italian. "What is happening…?!"

Romano could only clasp his brother's hand tightly, hoping that Italy would do the same just to hold in some of the pain in. Tears hung pathetically to the tips of the younger's lashes. The older knew just how painful things are for the younger to face.

According to the doctors, once he wakes up, he would feel pain equivalent to that after a surgery. The little weeps of his brother sent Romano to utter pressure.

"Just shut up, bastard _fratello_… An accident happened in Milan. And you're here bleeding like an idiot…" replied Romano with his usual harsh tone. Even so, nothing can doubt his care for the other. If Italy was to cry, Romano would undoubtably do the same. "_Che cazzo_, Veneziano… Promise me you'll never leave this room until I say so… _Per favore_… And no questions…"

"_S-Si_… But… Why…?" Italy accidentally thwarted his older brother's order of no questioning.

"No questions, Italia Veneziano! This is for your own good!"

Without realizing it, Romano shed tears in front of Italy. Those sincere droplets made the younger italian sunk in regret of ever making his brother cry. Romano feistily wiped his eyes with his wrist, the other hand still holding onto the other's weak and sick hand.

"_Si, fratello, prometo_… " smiled Italy. That smile was not the same as his other smile, not the smile that shows his interest in women, not smile he wears when cooking or eating pasta, definitely not the smile he smiled when being with the ones he loved and trust.

And Romano knew very well as to what that smile holds, but he remained silent about the matter. He only smiled back, chanting something softly in italian. Though that mumbles were too silent for Italy to hear.

"Did you say something, Romano…?" asked the younger italian, shakily trying to keep his smile, fighting and enduring the pain with his whole remaining strength.

"No. " Romano said with an abnormally soft and gentle tone. When Italy wanted to sit up to meet his brother's eyes, Romano gently pushed him back down by the shoulders. "You'll wait here… For only one fucking year. I know how much you love that potato bastard and that otaku shit, but you have to stay here. You can write letters and I'll send them for you. So stay here, bastard! "

"But-" Italy bit his tongue before he said anything further. That question which always started with a 'but' almost slipped out of his mouth. "_Si_… Anything you say, _fratello_…" A short pause. "Can I still have my pasta…?" asked the younger italian in a playful and unimpeachable manner, clearly trying to lift the mood up.

Truly faultless. Romano had no way to say no. "Of course, you idiot… Pasta is a basic necessity of life. I'm not that much of a bastard to let them starve North Italy…" Romano stated pleasantly despite the bad words in his sentences. "See you later, Veneziano…"

"Ve~ _Ciao_, Romano…"

Italy could only manage a few short weak waves to his brother as the other left the room in a jerky mien. He rested his frail body against the soft feathery white pillows. The pain was almost unbearable, yet he was too sick to even say anything. He wished his body will go numb soon from the torment of his nerves.

Romano mentioned something about an accident in Milan. What type of accident was it exactly? Usually a major fire in a city will only result in a minor rash or burnt skin on his body, nothing serious. To cause a standstill for him severe enough to be admitted into the hospital must had been something critical.

_ It hurts… It hurts… It hurts… It hurts…_

.

Romano was on his way to the airport when he suddenly received a phone call from an anonymous number. With the current situation of the world, all the senses in his body screamed at his to throw the device away. But an inner voice which he was sure it was not his begged him to answer that fated call.

"_C-Ciao_…" croaked the italian.

"Come to the Colosseum… Bring your best army…" said the stranger from the other side of the line, immediately disconnected their conversation. The stranger's voice was rather soft, but every word shot his ears like bullets. He couldn't quite guess who the other was.

"The fuck?!" Romano tried to dial the number back. But when he looked through the history of all call in his phone, the list was empty, almost as if the conversation just now never happened. "What the heck?!"

_ Don't go, Roma…!_

Romano shot his eyes around, looking out for any signs of life. He was sure he heard a voice just now. The more he thought about the matter, the more uneasy he felt.

He called his brother just in case something similar happened to him. As he waited for the other to pick up the phone, he cursed himself. It was only around five minutes since he left the hospital.

"_Ciao, fratello_…"

"Veneziano!" Romano didn't mean to use that harsh tone. It was natural for him ever since he was little. "I'm confiscating your phone whether you like it or not!"

"But… What about work…? And status reports to _le_ boss…? And some other stuff? I know I've laid back so much in the past… But I'm determined to change…! You seen my works, _si, fratello_? I'm doing my best and-"

"Shut the crap up, Veneziano!" The older italian gave out a tired sigh out before continuing. "I'll do your stupid work… You fucking stay there, dammit… I swear I'll make you eat bullets if you took a damn step out of that room, understand, _fratellino_?!"

"_Si_…"

That was the only response Italy gave. He disconnected their conversation almost immediately after his one word reply. Romano didn't even had the chance to say anything further. Once again, the older italian sighed.

"Tch… Since when am I being protective over that fucking-…?" He was never able to complete his sentence. Yes, he always lived under the shadows of the younger half of the whole Italia, but he cannot deny of his worry for his dear _fratello_.

With migraine and exhaustion, Romano turned around, walking back to the hospital room of his little brother.

.

By midnight, Romano arrived to the Colosseum as told. But he did not bring any sort of army with him. If thought logically, having a war inside the great Colosseum was something very unlikely to happen. The whole setup might be a prank.

And surprisingly, no 'armies' of the enemy were there too. He walked sluggishly into his precious Colosseum in Rome and breath the air of his own home. And all of that ended with a curse to the mocking universe. "Laugh all you want, fucking universe! Laugh at me for falling into a stupid prank! Che!"

When he was about to leave through the entrance, the gate won't budge. It seemed that the gate somehow locked itself when he entered. "Fuck…" Same goes for the other gates. To sum up the story, he got stuck inside of the remnant of his own grandfather. Stuck… That was clearly what happened, but he can't help but to shake the feeling that he was trapped like a mouse.

"Checkmate…"

Terror filled his heart. He turned around, darting his eyes everywhere, desperately trying to find the source of that cold whisper, or just to get away from it as far as possible. Everyone was right. He had always been a coward.

The sound of a gunshot filled the air of the Colosseum. He instantly froze, realizing that an unbearable pain pierced his shoulder, falling to the ground as his legs had no strength to stand up.

"I did not expect you to be this daft to come here alone, South Italy."

There was it again, the smooth and serene voice he heard just now. The vibration of the voice finally rang the bell in his memory. It was none other than his fearsome enemy, England.

The italian finally pulled himself together and started running from exposure. He tried his best to muffle in the shadows, vaguely panting the pain off his chest. When he tried to cover what seemed to be a gunshot wound to his right shoulder, his hand shot away.

"F-Fuck…! What do you want from me, England?!" shouted the italian from the shadows.

"You are indeed a fool, italian… You should have been able to figure out why you're here considering you were actually listening to the last world conference." England revealed himself, sitting on the highest peak of the construction. Beside him was a blurry figure who Romano can't see clearly. "Let us end this once and for all before it's too late, bloody italian…"

Romano shoved himself deeper into the darker parts of the hallway. All he could think of was to call Spain for help as a trail of blood marked just how far he ran. Before he had the chance to reach into his pockets for his phone, a strong crushing sensation grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the middle of the battlefield. What snatched him was a mystery as everything happened too fast. But he knew it was something big, dark, not human.

Somehow, England appeared in front of the bleeding italian nation in a split second's time, almost as if he teleported. "Surrender your right as a nation to the British Empire…" The brit drew out his rapier and lifted it high up, ready to slice the fallen nation in front of him.

The italian slowly tilted his head up, still laying flat on the ground. Parts of his body was covered in friction burns, slightly bleeding in some places. When his brown eyes met the gaze of the british nation, he could see death. "Maybe surrendering isn't so bad…" whispered his little heart. The sound of the tip of the rapier cutting through air sounded crystal clear in a clean high pitched manner. In some strange ways, Romano felt like time flowed slower around him, yet his body refused to move. He could see every frame movement of England bringing his rapier down to mark his tanned face with a scar.

"Surrender just like Antonio…" said the brit with a crooked smile, sentencing his weapon down.

"Spain…?" The italian's mind grew heavy and fuzzy. He can't even hear his own thoughts. It was as if his mind snapped. Involuntarily, his arm moved to defend himself. The rapier cut his flesh from the wrist down to his elbow, revealing bones and blood. Yet, he did not flinch.

England lifted his rapier one more time, determined to deliver another slash to the italian. "Forgive me… But I must do this or else America will take over…" he said expressionlessly.

Romano maladroitly tackled the brit in front of him, seizing the rapier off the other's hands. He kicked him away in the stomach, pointing the tip of the blade to the blond's green eyes. "What have you done to Spain…?" Without waiting for a reply, it was his moment to do the slashing.

Lifting the weapon, the italian brought it down with full force, only to be stopped by a glowing green barrier that looked like a hologram.

"Stay away, Romano…" hummed a very familiar voice. That sentence was more than enough to bring the italian back to reality.

Romano instantly dropped the weapon, shaking terribly by fear. He looked at his own trembling hands, backing away from England. Spain was there. Strange… He wasn't there before. But he didn't care about when or how he was there. He was just happy to see his face again, yet the fear inside of him didn't settle down.

"O-Oi, tomato bastard…! C-Come and save me from this asshole…!" whined the italian, clearly scared of the current situation. "S-Spain! Save me!"

"I have to protect England…" croaked the spaniard. "And refrain yourself from calling me Spain… I'm… Antonio Fernandez Carriedo…"

"Huh…?" Romano's heart stopped. The clear sky suddenly began pouring heavy rain, blurring his eyes with droplets of rain and tears. He tried saying something else like how he used to mock in front of Spain, but his body froze, completely unmoved.

_ Numb… _

.

"Ice… Why did you refuse to use human names…? It's just between us, you know…" Norway sipped his warm steamy tea as he sat near the fireplace.

Iceland looked at his brother, face not bothered to wear an expression. "That's stupid… We're countries. Human names are… Hmmm…" He closed his eyes, thinking about how he would answer the question. "It doesn't matter… Human names are for human… And we're both nations…"

"Why do you sound so old…?"

"That secret remains mine forever…" Iceland made no sense to his brother. "Brother Nor… You don't need to know about this war."

"War…? Don't be stupid. There's no war going on around the world…" replied Norway with his monotone manner.

Iceland smiled. "Just kidding. Don't take it seriously." He laid sleepily on the floor beside the other, feeling the warmth of the fireplace. "Strange how this place is cold in the middle of September…"

Norway didn't answer. Iceland definitely acted suspicious. After all, his smile was never a good sign. "Hey… What's going on…?"

* * *

**A/N : Ahaha~ Writing this is fun! I'm supposed to fit the fighting scene of Romano and England in this chapter, but whatever~ Oh. Italy and Norway had no idea about the war at all... And many others don't know. Either way, this is not a very romance based fanfic that everyone likes, but screw them XD. I need angst! Next chapter will be the battle thing~ Who won, you asked? I think you can guess~ *flips table* I really need to get this specific Germany and Prussia scene out of my head! **


	5. Another

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 5 : Another

"Please stay away before I'm forced to hurt you, Roma…" Drawing out the old falchion sword he used from the time he was still a pirate, the ex-nation Spain, or now known as Antonio can't help but to sob out a few cries. The henchman he held so dearly was bleeding in front of him, having to hurt him under the orders of his old enemy.

"_C-Che Cazzo, Spagna_! What do you expect me to do? You're supposed to protect me, dammit! You promised!" The coldness of the rain turned Romano's every breath into clouds of tiny mists, fading into the air right before the next exhalation. "What do you expect me to do…? Fighting the most important person for me in the world…?" The pain he felt physically and emotionally made it harder for him to speak, ending every word with a little touch of short breaths.

England clutched his fist hard, obviously disliking how the situation turned out. "This is your last chance, Italia Romano. Surrender while you still can. The British Empire will provide the best security for you and your brother. The people of Italy need not to fight in line."

Still avoiding eye contacts, Romano spat on the ground, his mouth taste of strong copper, marking the soil below with more red. "I don't care if you assholes take me away, but don't ever bring my stupid brother into this matter!" hissed the italian, his body numb and painful with every tiny movement. "You can't control Venezano's ability…" said Romano in a begging tone. That statement he made disappeared under the showers of rain before it could reach others' ears.

"Are you not aware of the situation?" England gave Antonio a look of despondency, signaling him something heavy-heartedly. "You will regret for not submitting to me. And about the once existing nation Spain…"

"That's enough, England…! He don't have to know that much!" Antonio cut England's sentence before he could finish. "Let me handle this fight."

"No, Antonio. What if he ended up giving you a deadly blow? As much as I hate to say it as your foe, even I don't want to see that happen." The brit turned his gaze upon the italian, ignoring the spaniard's pleas. "Listen carefully, Romano. Because of the chaotic civil war in Spain yesterday, everything went out of hand, triggering a massive massacre throughout the nation. Politicians and the military had no power over the situation. Ultimately, they surrendered the whole situation to the hands of the british Empire. For a price, they lost their independence. All of this happened in one day, and all of this ended in that same single day."

"I wonder what caused that…" Matthew asked bluntly while holding his polar bear up. "It must be something terrible…" he said with a calm and soft smile on his face.

"Ah, Matthew. About time you appear. Let us go home. It seemed that this italian refused to listen to our offerings…" England turned around and walked towards the exit. "Leave Antonio behind to fiddle around with our italian friend. As long as his land is ours, whether or not he stays with us made no difference."

The canadian sighed. "I've been here with you all the time. Geez… Anyway… Let me warn you Romano…" Matthew gave one of those sympathy look towards the italian. "Spain is no longer the Spain who used to be. He's human now, unlike you nations. You know what that means, right…?"

"I don't give a fuck about you and your stupid plans… Just get the heck out of my home…" ordered Romano, still having difficulties with his stance. "Whatever the reason you came here, you won't have your answer today, bastards."

Another sigh from the canadian. "If he dies, he dies, Romano. He won't rise back up…" Matthew slowly closed his eyes, giving the other a smile of reassurance. "He's just like me, I suppose… This is my last life as Matthew Williams..."

The italian's heart skipped a beat.

"I'm sorry, Roma…" Antonio begged for forgiveness as he ran towards Romano but stopped by Matthew. The spaniard tried to break free from the other's grip, but his struggles are in vain. "Don't worry, Roma! Boss will be right by your side again! Boss promise!"

"Don't make promises you can't fulfill, bastard! And what are you apologizing for?" Romano's breath grew deeper, the damage did to his body began to take over his conscience.

"Here is a little present from us, the British Empire. We hope to hear from you soon, Italia Romano." Matthew gave a forceful kiss to Antonio's lips. Their contact lasted for a few seconds before breaking off. Matthew grabbed the other by the collar with one hand and threw his roughly aside. "Have a good night." twinkled the canadian, following England from behind before disappearing along with the brit. No signs of transportation outside, no traces left anywhere.

A gunshot to his shoulder, deep cut wounds that revealed his flesh and bone, friction burn all over his body, the smell of blood alone. The italian faced serious shit there. At least everything will soon end now that the enemy left, leaving him and his precious boss there alone, in the middle of the Colosseum, the first place where they…

Romano yelped out a small cry as he felt a strong blow to his wounded shoulder. "What the fuck?!" He looked up only to see the spaniard ready to bring down his falchion into one powerful slash. He rolled out of the way just in time before the sword pierces the ground. A second too late, that might be him who was pierced. "Spain! What are you doing?!"

"You filth… Don't you dare say my name so freely." said Antonio as he pointed the tip of his sword towards Romano. "Even looking at you makes me sick, _Inglaterra_!"

"_Inghilterra_…?" Romano muttered with his little remaining strength. "Are you stupid now, _pomodoro bastardo_?! Or are you just fucking blind?! I'm not England!" He barely able to stand up straight. Limping his way, to the spaniard's side, he can't help but to smile, even though the other hit him by the chin.

"Mad englishman! Do not ever talk italian in front of me! You are too tainted to speak the language of my henchman!" The spaniard yelled. His face excited as the thirst for blood overpowered his rational thinking. A sickly smiled carved itself on his perfectly tanned face. One glance at it can rip the light off one's eyes for a while. The terror radiating from the spaniard painted dread all over Romano's heart.

"S-Spain…?" whimpered the italian with a pathetic sad tone. "What are you-"

Antonio casted aside his falchion, skillfully drawing out his gun instead. "Why…?" the spaniard asked miserably, his dreaded face cracked and dissolved away in a blink of an eye. "Why must you kill my Roma…?" His eyes were already swollen from the crying before. His eyes hurt whenever tears formed to blur his vision. But it was better that way, so that he don't have to look at the faces of those who saw him cry. "Give me back my Romano, _Inglaterra_…"

Romano shuddered. That was all he was capable of doing. He cannot afford to lose conscience now that the situation turned out to be like this. "But I am he-"

A sound of another gunshot. He was tired of all those loud echoing sounds made by a damn piercing piece of bullet. The italian lost his sight as his body lost strength, falling back down to mother earth.

Odd. The only thing reaching to his senses are sounds of rain and footsteps coming closer to him.

The spaniard kneeled beside him, cradling his face with one palm, sobbing out feeble droplets of desolated emotions while the other hand clasped to the rims of the gun. "You beast… I don't care anymore… It's better for me if I die… Shit… Why can't you just take my life instead of his…?"

_ What the fuck…? What are you yapping about, bastard…_

Another one of those stand-still moments. Romano could hear every droplet of rain crashing to the ground. Each marked it's own existence with unique soundless voices. It was as if the universe slowed itself down for the nation to witness the events of that night, slow and clear to his only remaining sense.

Crystal clear liquids indeed made such fine sounds, until the rusty sound of a gun's trigger being pulled halfway through came in. That specific tomato bastard was going to shot himself. A country can't be easily killed, so he should be alright.

Or not.

Romano remembered Matthew's last words. They rang repeatedly in his head. _"If he dies, he dies, Romano. He won't rise back up…"_

_ No… Don't do it, Spain!_

"_Gloria al Padre e al Figlio e allo Spirito…_" It was as if out of will, the italian's bloody lips chanted something under his own dying breath, his blood moved neatly to form a triangle around him on the damp soil. Foreign words scribbled in blood around the edges of the trinity.

Distracted, Antonio lowered his gun, snorting out at the fallen nation. Seeing the blood formation, his knees grew weak, yet full of excitement. "What are you trying to say?!"

"_Come era nel principio, ora e sempre nei secoli dei secoli._" Romano muttered further.

"Don't you ignore me, _Inglatera_!"

"_Si… All'inizio…_"

"I said stop!"

_ "Amen…"_

Just with that last word, the trinity glowed an intense red. The spaniard backed away, shielding his eyes with his arm.

The light ceased. "Ah… How I miss this moment in time…" smiled the italian. His whole attire changed, looking somewhat like a white priest with long red scapular, a golden cross staff in hand. His face was quite different, vibrating a rather calm warmth. Small butterfly-like lights fluttered around the two. The structures of the whole Colosseum renewed as if it was just built yesterday. The sky looked like a canvas painted magnificently with colors of gold.

Romano's fresh wounds remained, staining his white garment with red all over. Even the handle of the staff was stained by blood, his grip wet. "Oh my… I've forgotten how powerful the power of the vatican has throughout the world… " The italian spun his staff, twisting it around his fingers as if they weighed nothing. The glowing butterfly danced alongside him, fluttering wildly as the priest smile. "Come! Let us end this battle before I lost myself completely." he smirked relaxedly.

"Bring it on!" Antonio dashed towards the hurt italian, swinging the heavy gun to bash the other's face. Expertly holding the staff back, Romano deflected the attack only when the moment was right. The strikes repeated over and over again, but so far, nobody was hit. Each hostile countered, each sneak attack dodged. Both of their fighting skills were on par.

Antonio noticed how the other's wounds were still unattended. He waited for a chance to strike where it hurts the most; an open wound. He made a fake attempt to punch the other in the stomach, hoping that Romano would concentrate everything to block the strike.

The attempt worked. When Romano tried to shield himself from the punch, he left the rest of his body unguarded. Antonio brandished his gun, immediately firing multiple bullets to the italian's shoulder and chest. Romano didn't flinch, he just smiled.

Antonio's body paralyzed after seeing the other's gentle smile. "_Inglaterra_…?"

Romano didn't answer. He remained graceful as he pierced the tip of the staff through the middle of the spaniard's chest, intentively twisting and thrusted the staff further through. The end of his golden staff finally pierced through the spaniard's back. Antonio's eyes immediately flashed the mark of death, losing connection to the world almost instantly.

"Humans are such fragile beings… Do not worry, child. You will finally find salvation in eternal rest…" For the first time ever in known ears, Romano's voice brought great ambience to the surrounding.

It was as if the savior descended upon earth once again to save humanity.

Not.

The small butterflies of light began to dissolve into darkness. The staff hazed down to nothingness, literally leaving a visible hole through the spaniard's chest. His white robe disappeared light by light, returning him to his former military attire.

His whole appearance changed. The unworldly radiance begone along with the previous changes. Everything seemed back to normal.

"BASTARD!" Romano shouted, dashing to catch the unconscious spaniard. "_Mio Dio_… I almost killed you, Spain!" The italian sighed, gazing the whole area stained by blood. Sick… He knew most of that red was his, but he can't help but to feel guilty for all the bloodshed. "_Pomodoro bastardo_…" He could feel every Antonio's cold breath against his skin. At least he was still breathing, barely.

The italian ran his fingers through Antonio's hair, one end of his lips curved up to a small smile. "That's not even one percent of what I'm capable of… If it goes above that, I might not come back…" His face shown great fury, but looking at the spaniard's still face as if he was sleeping, his hatred smile turned that of passion. "Let's go home, Spain…" One step was a pain indescribable by words, but he shouldered the other out of the arena anyway. The rain still pouring endlessly.

From afar, the two uninvited strangers witnessed everything. "Let us go home too, England." asked Matthew. He patted his pet polar bear's head, who was currently biting the edge of the canadian's trench coat. "Stop that, Kumasaburo…"

"It seemed that we are still too weak to fight against Italy… Come… Let's go back…" The british nation stretched his hand out for Matthew to hold. Willingly, Matthew grabbed the other's offer, both of them warped away with a strong gust of wind.

.

Antonio woke up with a headache and a sharp pain in his chest. It was safe for him to assume that it was night time considering how dark the place was. "GAH! Curse that _Inglaterra_! I'll send my armada in battle when I see him!" He could feel the texture of satin under his hands as he tried to sit up. The spaniard was in a silk bed. When he looked around, he had no idea where he was. The feeling of unfamiliar clothing discomforted him, chest covered by bandages.

He remembered what happened to him in his last battle. It was his lost. Tears came into his eyes, gripping the bed sheet with full force. "Why… Why must you take Romano away from me…?"

"What are you talking about…? I'm right here, you bastard."

The spaniard jerked briskly at the direction of the voice. Leaning against the curtains of the window, a bizarre curl sprung up and arms crossed was none other that his _Inglaterra_. "WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT TO TAKE AWAY FROM ME?!" shouted Antonio with all his heart.

Romano sighed. He threw himself forward and sat on the bed beside Antonio. "Do you know who I am…?" When he tried to reach out for the other's arm, his hand was slapped away. The dread he felt was great, but by force, he pulled himself together to get the situation fixed.

"Don't try to brainwash me." protested Antonio as Romano tried to at least touch him. He shoved away to get as far away as possible from the other, twitching by every brush of contact. Every time the italian wished to come closer, he would pull the bed sheet up and growled in objection. "Get away from me! You killed my Roma!"

The italian struggled against the other's constant counters. With much effort, he finally get hold of both of the spaniard's wrist, pinning him down to the bed. Even at that moment, Antonio threshed with full protest. "Dear Lord, look at me!" commanded Romano, failing completely to get the spaniard's attention.

"Darn it… Why do I feel so weak…?!" No matter how hard Antonio tried, he cannot even stagger the other. Was he always that weak? Of course not, he just turned human, not that he realized that.

"Oi, Spain, you jerk! I'm Romano! RO-MA-NO! Not that stupid eyebrow tea bastard!" With the other's constant squirming, the italian finally made a stupid decision to stop the whole struggle with a tight kiss. It wasn't much, but he felt a quick jolt of spark through his body. He wondered if the spaniard felt the same way too.

As the italian pulled apart from the embrace, breaking the lip to lip contact, he could see the spaniard's face glowed red as he felt his own heat rising up. "Do you hear me, bastard…? I'm here…"

The endless demonstration against the other finally stopped. Antonio turned his face to the side, refusing to show his lost. "Copying the way he talks won't get me fooled… I know how unique my Roma is… His green eyes and messy blonde hair… Unlike you…" Antonio emphasized the last sentence.

"You're beginning to piss me off, jerk… Think whatever you want…" Romano leaned forward, meeting their temples together. And again, his facial expression fell into complete calmness. A rare sight that sadly unacknowledged by Antonio.

"Stop trying to defile me much further… I rather die than to lose like this…" Antonio's tears glided down, shining brilliantly under the dim light from the outside half moon.

"_Shh shhhh_… _Spagna_… " hushed the italian, cooping the spaniard's cheeks with both hands. "I never said this before, but I never look as you as my one and only boss… You always protected me even if you have to face those countless shits…"

The way Romano's faded brown eyes looking with complete sincerity and passion into Antonio's own emerald green, he felt his soul slowly sapping away from his body. Indeed, his body grew feverish and his cheeks painted in light pink. The typhoon he felt inside of his stomach and mind made him sick. When the spaniard opened his mouth to speak in rebellion, the italian gently placed a finger on top of his lips.

"You don't have to do anything further. From now on, I'll make the promises…" Romano lifted his finger off the hushed spaniard's lips. Somehow, he was able to paralyze the spaniard's body with mere words. "You just have to stay alive for me. It's my turn to protect you, even if I have to pay that equal price to unleash the other side of me…"

Romano backed off. He flicked the spaniard's forehead with his fingers as he stood up, putting both hands into his pockets. Antonio could only manage a small yelp, his body still refused to obey his command.

"I don't think I can fix your brain. All I can do is to hope for you to believe in me yourself, bastard. The eyebrows tea-bastard is England, not me. I say this again, I'm Italia Romano." explained the annoyed italian.

The italian was about to turn away and leave, but stopped by the other's perfectly natural tanned hand, accidentally loosen the bandage around the other's arm. The sudden strong pull caused the stitches on Romano's hand to rip apart from the flesh, reopening the large wound. Blood streamed beautifully down both of their fingers, staining the floor.

"_Inglaterra_…! Don't think you can get away from this." With doubt in his own eyes, Antonio wasn't sure what to say. But one this was certain, he cannot let this confusion of both sides to continue. "_Por favor_… Why are you dragging me into this madness…? You haven't answered me… Why did you take Romano away from me…? You can't lie about him… I saw you killed him with my own two eyes."

With one strong force, Romano shook the other's hand off coldly. He gave the other a deathly stare."You jerk… I would kill you myself rather than leaving you in their hands…" Looking at the other's puzzled eyes, the italian jerked closer as he sighed. "Do I have to say it out loud for you…?"

Romano waited for a response, a short one will do. And again, he let out another sigh. He noticed that he had been breathing out sighs often recently. "I love you, _Spagna_…"

The italian re-bandaged his arm, temporarily stopping the bleeding. Using a handkerchief he pulled out from his pocket, he wiped the blood on the wooden floor. Nothing further to say, he left the room, locking the door behind him.

On the other hand, Antonio's whole body surrendered to death. The will to live simply vanished. He felt his body shutting down on it's own as he screamed out a loud howl, marked by a soul reaper.

Outside, a man in tuxedo and shades waited for him. Romano gave him an order which must not be broken. "I'll be visiting my _fratellino_. And make sure nobody gets in, absolutely NOBODY gets out. Just like you, he's human. So never let him kill himself. Italian mafia is the only force I can rely on without any help from this stupid freak side of me."

"Understood, boss!" The anonymous mafia man answered, drawing out his twin snipers as he positioned himself to his post." "The men already secured every angle of this mansion."

"Va bene… I'll leave this to you." Romano gave a small pound to the other's chest with the back of his palm and left.

.

"Ve… Dear Germany…" hummed Italy as he wrote every word on the white piece of mailing paper. "_Fratello_. Told me to stay in this room for at least a year. I don't know why he told me to do this, but I don't want to disobey him."

The bubbly italian tapped his forehead with his pencil, trying to think of what to write next. "I am indeed lonely…" His expression dropped silent. The bits of messages he wanted to say turned monologue in his heart.

_'It's not that I'm complaining, but with my freedom limited, I don't feel happy anymore… I don't mind doing all those work I ignored before, even if it has something to do with the mafia, but please convince fratello to let me out. I really wanted to see you and Japan again. I want us to train and play together like we used to during WWII. Remember the time when we were stranded on that island, or the time when the three of us ate lunch together? We can still do that, si? It haven't even passed one week and I already felt this broken. All this time, I never thought of our separation to be something this big, because I never thought of the possibility of loosing all of you for good. Now that I felt so restricted for the first time, that glimpse of nightmare somehow came true for me bit by bit. _

_ Recently, I have these dream or visions where we're all hurting and killing each other. Some of us disappeared, others killed by a single bullet. I don't understand. Us as countries cannot die no matter what injury we received. This even happened when I'm awake. The doctors said I was hallucinating and unresponsive at times. And there is this repeating scene played over and over again in my head. I saw myself on a throne with fratello, but that insane look in my eyes. I can't bring myself to think what happens next. I was forced to stab myself with a pen or anything sharp nearby in order to wake up from that cycle of visions. I'm too scared to see what happens next. _

_ Please, Germany. What is happening right now…? I wanted to see you and Japan so badly. I wanted things to go back to the way it used to. I'm so… so…'_

A teardrop fell on top of his written paper. He didn't realized he wrote everything down, nor did he realized of the tears in his eyes. "Ah…? Why am I writing such a depressing thing?" He quickly wiped his tears off his eyes. But holding the white paper in hand as he sat in the hospital bed, droplets of despair flowed down his cheeks again.

Upset, Italy crumpled the paper in distress, throwing it forcefully to the direction of the dustbin. "Letters are not supposed to be sad. It's supposed to bring miracles through writings with the heart of the sender…" He reached out of another sheet of paper inside of the desk drawer beside the bed. He re-forged the letter from the start.

_"Dear Germany, I wonder how you and Japan are right now. My fratellone, Romano might told me where I am right now. I behaved like you always asked me to do. I'm good, si? _

_ But staying here without much bella or siesta is no fun. So if you are not busy, can you come and visit me sometimes? I want to see Japan too. _

_ Che Dio vi benedica e vi protegga. _

_ With love from Italy, Italia Veneziano."_

Rereading the letter, he was quite happy with the outcome. At all events, it doesn't sound insane like the previous one. Obviously, he had more to say, but most of them are better left untold. "Ve~ This is way better than the other before. Those kind of things doesn't make sense. Of course non of them is true…" Another tear fell. "T-Then why…? Why is that I'm still crying…?" In a small voice, he sobbed alone in the white painted hospital room. His howl was like a sad song, equivalent to a melancholy played on a person's death in the church at dusk.

"Oi, Veneziano! What are you crying about this time?!" His dear _fratellone_, Romano kicked the door open, running gracelessly to the other's bedside. "You know how awful your constant wails sound?! It's scaring the heck out of the-... W-Wait… What's wrong…?" The older brother's tone softened the moment he saw his younger brother broken in tears.

"Ah…? You mean this…?" Italy touched his left tear-stained cheek, still flowing coldly down. "I… I…" He gripped the bedsheet hard, crumpling the paper in hand. "I don't… know…"

There are a lot more he would like to say. But with the way things are right now, it was as if God did not let him speak of his side of the story. Italy dearly wished to pour everything he experienced lately. He can't even be honest with his brother, how can he tell anyone else?

"_Cazzo_, Veneziano… Don't you fucking lie to me…" threatened the older. His eyes shot into the younger's teary eyes, a rare sight even for him. "It's okay to tell me, you know…"

"I was just writing this letter to Germany and Japan…" Still shaking, he handed the white paper over to Romano, not even bothered to put it into an envelope anymore. "Will you send this for me, _Fratello_…?"

"Uh… Yeah… Sure…" Nervously taking the letter, Romano made sure he wipe any fallen tears on his younger brother's cheek. Italy began to cry again. The older italian found no heart to scold or upset his precious _fratellino_. In the end, he could only manage out a soft hug. Surprisingly, that was enough to hush the other down. "There's nothing to be scared about, _mio fratellino_… I am here to keep all shit away from you. So don't you fucking dare to cry in front of me ever again."

"_Si_… _Promessa_…" Italy wiped his own tears away, the older still holding him close. "Umm… _Fratello_…? You can let go now…" Such behavior by his _fratellone_ was beyond normal. He would usually scold the younger or shower him with mocks. But to see Romano cared enough to notice his cries and embracing him with full gentleness, Italy felt odd.

It was as if the world is changing.

"_Dispiace_." blushed Romano as he let go. He ruffled up the other's hair, giving him a light bro-fist to Italy's chest. "Cheer up, will you?" He snatched the letter and waved it around casually. "I'll deliver this to that potato bastard. I'll come and visit everyday after I finish my work."

"Si~ Be careful now, _fratello_~ The world is changing…" whispered the younger italian.

Even with Italy whispering, Romano could hear everything the other said. And this sent chills down his spine. It's just a small nonsense his younger brother muttered, why would he be scared? "Veneziano? What did you say?"

"Ve~? Um… Be careful…? … … Why are you acting all scary, _fratello_?" Italy pulled the bed sheet up and covered half of his face.

"I-It's nothing. I have to go now…" Romano waved goodbye, turning around to leave. The way he ended the conversation made it seemed that he was in a hurry to leave.

Another odd thing that was 'off' about his older brother is how he didn't roll his sleeves up as usual. Without thinking twice, Italy pointed out his thought. "Hey, Romano? You don't usually keep your sleeves down."

"It's…" Romano darted his eyes around the room, looking for an excuse to his brother's question. "It's in the middle of September. O-Of course anyone would do this." Avoiding eye contact, he quickly head towards the door. But his little brother grabbed his arm, refused to let go.

"_Frate_-" Shock. Italy may be a weak loser with not much perks in the art of war, but his knowledge of anatomy was one of the best. Just by touching the other's sleeve-covered arm, he knew the feeling under that much cloth were bandages and gauze.

"Veneziano… I…"

Italy roughly tugged his brother closer, eagerly pulling Romano's sleeve up. He knew he was hurting him by some means, but he didn't care. His_ fratellone_'s arm was covered with bandages, some parts of it stained by blood. His heart and breathing abnormal, eyes filled with pure rage and insanity. "_Fratello_…? What's this?" Italy's eyes shot him a look of intense fury. It was a shout of demand for the truth, not an answer to his question, the eyes of an assassin.

"This is nothing… It's just a scratch." replied Romano, pulling his sleeve back down, but Italy wouldn't let him do so for the older haven't answered his question yet.

The younger italian pulled him closer to inspect the bandaged wound in a better view. Romano couldn't resist. His control over his body died before the other's strength. It only took a few short seconds to finish his observation. The bandages were stained by quite a few spots of fresh blood, obviously a sign of an unstopped bleeding wound. Glaring up to his brother's eyes, his voice deepened as he asked another demanding question. "Who did this to you?"

"It was…" Hesitantly, Romano croaked out tensely. "England…" Such a powerful grip to his wrist by his little brother started to hurt him. The slightest movement made his skin and bones ache.

Italy finally let go. Curling back down, he beamed a rather peaceful smile. That was the Italy Romano grew to love. His dear _fratellino_ he wished never to lose. This may be his sole reason why he would go through so much just to protect him. Deep down, Romano knew that in the midst of lunacy, the only person who will always be by his side is his other half. "Ve~ England had always be the one to kick us around, _si_?"

"Yeah… Sure…" The older pulled his sleeve all the way down, looking away from his brother's gaze. Silence between the both of them built up, an awkward and uncomfortable situation for the older italian. As he had nothing more to say, he felt that it was best for him to leave quick to prevent further unwanted 'explaining'. "I'll deliver this to that bastard."

"Ciao." waved Italy. The familiar goodbye smile on his face brought great relief to the older italian, smirking him back a cracked nervous smile. "And one more thing… Can you get me a few sketchbooks and art pencils?"

"What do you need them for?" Romano raised an eyebrow, curious of his brother's sudden demand. "Don't you always draw on canvas? It's hard to bring themhere, but I don't mind getting you those damn blocks."

"I just feel like drawing a lot. Canvases won't be enough for me." replied the younger in a joyous manner. "You'll get me some, _si_?"

Answering with nothing more than a sigh, Romano left the room. His heavy footsteps could be heard throughout the corridors outside. Italy chuckled by that simple thought.

Once again, that warm fire in his eyes doused, leaving his heart hollow and cold in the midst of solitary. He managed to carve out a small smile, a smile only for himself in his own new world.

"I'll tell my story in my own ways…"

* * *

**A/N : lasdfhnljkvbsodfn Italy's letter made me lunatic in the car when I wrote that part XD. Been debating with myself whether to insert usuk or not =3=. Ah! And I finally made a tumblr account to post stuff about all my fanfics. I'm planning to make one piece of art for every chapter and post them there, just to give others a glimpse of what is happening in my head~ Link is in my profile. But I doubt anyone would care. Pfft. I'll post those drawings as soon as I get my scanner fixed~**


	6. Finding A Withered Truth

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 6 : Finding A Withered Truth

America was in a jet with another fighter pilot, flying across the sky of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Very soon, the city of Sicily would be just below them, living up to their names as the italian mafia area.

"Sir, we'll be reaching Sicily in less than a minute." said the other pilot across the jet's communicator. He pulled some trigger and pushed multiple buttons, opening the extraction door of the jet.

America repositioned his goggles as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Thanks, Mark. Head back to the base. I'll dive here." The young american nation made his way to the door. His hair danced wildly in the winds of high altitude. To be one with the sky had always been his dreams, never once he frowned in the open air of the high firmament. But that day, he found no spirit in smiling. Ready to jump, he turned to his escorting pilot, giving him a last thumbs up. "Great job, dude."

The other pilot didn't look back. His concentration was fully focused on his job. "America, Sir! You should take a parachute with you!" He released the locks that holds the parachutes near the walls of the cabin. While keeping his eyes on the windscreen, he reached out for one bag of parachute, offering them to his on duty nation. "Sir?"

"Nah…" declined America. "I'm stronger than what the both of us think. I'm sure I'll be fine." With just that conclusion, he dived out of the jet. The feeling of cloud and air against his face were cold and painful, yet he did not feel bothered by them.

A while after his jump, the motion and colors of the famous city were visible through the glass of the american's goggles. The prominent rumored mafia city, Sicily didn't look like a bad city at all. The people there lived normal lives. Children playing outside, women seeing their husbands off. Even with bearing the title 'mafia' in their names, they are still normal human beings.

Judging by the distance, America had less than one minute in the air before his grand landing. "A pity all of these lives will go to waste…" he whispered to himself. He changed his posture, getting ready to alight on a specific targeted place to meet a certain person. With past accuracy, he was confident of his own military intel.

But the reason for his visit that day was to find out something even his military intelligence cannot track down, and he shall do it no matter what method he had to use, even if it means getting other nations involved.

America never done this parachute-less dive before. He braced himself, hoping for the best as he landed on hard ground, safe and sound on both feet. The impact caused the stone road around him to crack in a small radius, but he felt no pain. Such achievement was impossible for a normal human, but he wasn't one to begin with.

Closing his eyes, he centralized his target. Somehow, America was able to sharpen all his senses, directing him to his destination as if by instinct. As soon as he saw his lead, he ran swiftly towards it, ignoring the awed people he passed by.

Somewhere outside Sicily's local hospital, a lone nation walked down the stairs in front of the main exit. In his hand held a perfectly ripe tomato, ready to be eaten raw. He whipped out his flip phone, answering the call from one of his important acquaintance. "Ciao… This better be something fucking important or else I'll kick your useless ass…"

After listening to what 'business' directed to him, he gripped the phone hard, hearable to the other across the phone. "Tie him up. Keep an eye on that _pomodoro bastaro_ until I arrive. And dispatch more people at Veneziano's hospital just in case." The italian disconnected their conversation and threw the phone to one of his bodyguards.

"Sir…?" Asked the one who caught the italian's phone.

"Get that phone away from me. I don't want to fucking hear another report about Spain." The italian's face clearly pissed, it was obvious he was going to go on another rant that will affect the society around his radius, but he did not. Instead, he raised a hand, signaling everyone to go back to their station. "Those who are supposed to come with me, go on ahead to the airport, leave me alone for a while. Those who are on guard duty, go fucking back to work. My little brother is in there, so don't fuck this up."

Everyone involved obeyed without a complaint and started to move to their station. Shortly after that, he walked around the hospital, heading towards the small garden meant for overnight patients. He didn't care how busy he was, he needs some alone time to release his anger and frustration, and maybe a little bit of dijection.

Just when he thought he was alone, a strong someone knocked him down from the back, pinning him to the floor.

"If you resist, I won't hesitate to break your hands, South Italy!" The blue-eyed nation pressed him down harder, attempting to make the other surrender to his power, yet the other doesn't seemed to respond much.

"I don't have time to play games with you, America. I have to go back to Rome…" said Romano, his voice sounding flat. He didn't even try to resist.

With monstrous strength, America twisted the other's arm and pinned them forcefully. Any further force applied will result in several broken bones. Still, the italian give no care.

The american grew desperate, literally crushing the other's shoulder until a crack sound could be heard. Shocked, he immediately backed away. On the other hand, Romano slowly got up, dusting his clothes as if nothing happened. "That might hurt, you shit ass bastard… I'm so going to fucking kill you if that shit happens…" Romano turned around and slowly walked away to the opposite direction.

"Whoa! Wait! Didn't that hurt?!" asked America in a shocked tone. "I'm pretty sure I broke your shoulder or somethin'…" Romano ignored him, saying absolutely nothing nor did he turned around to give his signature annoyed glare. "Dude! You can't just ignore me like this! Don't force me to use my powers against you!"

Unable to handle the yapping of the loud american nation, Romano finally faced the other, vexed eyes scowled into America's pure blue irises. "Do you fucking think you're the only one with new found blasphemies?! Fucking retard! Go put your hamburgers in a blender and drink it with nails! Shit! I don't need another problem to babysit!"

"Relax dude… I'll leave if it really bothers you-" America was about to leave when he remembered his sole reason of his 'visit'. He joisted himself, preparing for another strike to take the italian down. "No! You listen to me! I came all the way here to-"

"Shut up, bastard…" Romano cut the other's sentence before he could finish. "I don't want to hear your bastard problems."

It seemed that Romano refused to listen. America's hand automatically grabbed hold of the other's wrist. He didn't realize of his own strength, slowly turning Romano's fingers blue. "Never! I know that England went here to visit you a a few days ago! Dude, you have to tell me where he is right now!"

Desperation got the better over the american. He gripped the other's wrist harder, cracking the other's bones. Yet Romano remained stagnant. The expression on his slightly tanned face showed sympathy and disgust just by looking at the american's desperate and pathetic face.

"Romano… Please…" America loosened his grip, revealing a rather ugly pressure mark on the italian's wrist. For a split moment, he could feel the texture of damaged skin under his touch. Was Romano hurt or something? "What happened to you…?" Even though he asked that, he didn't wait for an answer. In a brutal manner, he pulled Romano's sleeve up, slightly ripping the edges of the cloth.

America saw the horrendous fresh scars still sealed by bloodstained stitches. The shocked expression on the american's face mirrored that of Italy's that time, the time Italy first saw Romano's injury, utter surprise. But Romano didn't shot back. He let America touch his wound, slightly twitching from the sudden contact.

"This looks deep… As far as I know, there isn't any war going on right now. How can you get hurt like this?" Aside from the wounds on Romano's arm, he also noticed faint friction burns on the italian's face and more bandages around his chest, covered by his light brown uniform.

Feeling irritated as soon as he heard the american's question, Romano slapped the other's hand off, pulling his own sleeve back down as he repositioned his uniform. "It's none of your fat ass business! I don't have all day to listen to you, bastard! What do you want from me?"

America tossed his curiosity aside. He took a step back, getting ready to deliver his point in a steady stance. "Tell me where England is… He came to see you, yet you're still a country. He didn't kill you and such… So you're in an alliance with him, right-"

"BASTARD!" Romano clenched his fist in anger. He wanted to punch the american so badly, but that might bring out the wrong interpretation, starting a new war instead. "Who do you think did these to me, huh?! You think I just walk in a park and scrape myself?!" The italian let out a small sigh, attempting to calm himself.

"Gee… I'm sorry, dude… I-"

"Shut up…" said Romano while holding his hand up to stop America from his further meaningless words. "Listen, _bastardo_… England attacked Spain… And he attacked me. Seems like the ghostly canadian is working under him too." The italian closed his eyes, trying not to crack his voice with all the choking in his throat when remembering the past events. "Canada is not a country anymore… And Spain is too…"

"God, damn it… Sorry to hear that, dude…" America looked down, avoiding eye contact with the italian as he was afraid of provoking the other, making everything worse as it was.

Another small sigh from Romano. "Thanks, America… I appreciate that…" He slick his hair back, yet his hair fall back front. He was under a lot of pressure and his whole body strained. The swollen bags under his eyes clearly displayed how he didn't have any good rest for a while.

America knew he shouldn't add more burden to the italian's shoulders. His objectives of visiting wasn't fulfilled, but at least he learned something new - England had Spain and Canada under his influence. Whatever their newfound abilities were, England had complete control. And looking at the situation, Romano surely will be England's enemy… Another victim of the brit's act.-

"Romano…" America pulled out a piece of thick brown envelope from his jacket's pocket. He handed it over to the italian. Romano, on the other hand knew very well what documents sealed within the paper. He was one-hundred percent sure that was another one of those 'alliance proposal' letter. "I prepared this just in case somethin' like this happens. I hope your boss will consider an alliance with the United States Of America."

Romano took the letter without second thoughts. Right now, the best choice was to form alliance with as many countries as possible to prevent unwanted wars. He weakly waved the envelope casually up in the air, a faint smile carved dimly on his face. "I'll be needing this shit…. _Grazie_… This will be looked over by tonight."

"Um…" America blushed, scratching the back of his head as he looked aside. "I haven't seen England since the last world conference… " America turned around and leave, saying no more than a small goodbye wave.

Romano saw the other ran off in an unexplained speed into a corner and disappeared, heavy footsteps trailing faintly off the empty space.

And when the italian was completely alone, he stared blankly at the newly acquired papers before looking up the sky, another sigh escaped his breath. He was getting really tired of the whole 'sighing' behavior. "_Stai scherzando, Dio…?! Più merda c'è meglio è, è altrove…? Cazzo…_"

Mumbling more curse, Romano made his way to his car. One of his bodyguard was already inside, ready to escort him to the airport. The whole journey was in silence, mind too fucked up to think of another mock to say.

When they reached the airport, Romano turned to his accompanist, giving him a tired glare. "Move my stupid brother to Milan by tonight. They found out where we are. With the way things are right now, nobody would suspect him to be in a severely destroyed place like that. Spread around false information of Veneziano still here in Sicily. And fucking act like he's till here."

The bodyguard just nodded obediently. Nobody ever had the guts to go against Romano's words since the diagnosis of an odd ability even the doctors or scientists cannot explain. Of course, his younger brother had no knowledge of the situation, and he was determined to keep it that way.

.

America threw himself on his bed. The sky outside had long dimmed from it's daylight. The flashes of that day's event still clear in his thoughts. Just when he thought he would finally meet England after that one year long separation, he received news of his dear former-brother hurting other nations. Having Canada leaving his side was shock enough, but taking Spain's independence and hurting Romano was too much for him. He didn't remember having his loving England to be this lunatic as to start hurting others. That just added another reason to find England as soon as possible.

_And the main reason is to take him down..._

"Amérique…? Back so early?" France entered the room, not bothered to knock. He tied his hair up as he was cleaning the place up not too long ago.

America gave him a tired but welcoming look. A small relieved smile on his face. "You don't have to clean the place you know. I can call the cleaning service dudes later or morning or somethin'."

"_Mon Dieu_, Amérique. It's the least I can do for staying here. And don't worry… Me losing to you on that day's battle won't affect big brother. We could at least stop being hypocrites. Nobody wants to prolong a meaningless fight." France sat beside the american on the bed and sexually laid a hand on the other's abs, only to get his hand slapped away. "_Aie_, watch your strength… I'm a human, remember?"

"Forgive me for taking your independence, Francis." said America in a childish and bratty tone. "I'll give it back to you as soon as I find England." The way he said everything was as if 'independence' was something small that one can simply trade off. France noticed this and frowned.

"I don't mind about the whole independence thing, for that is quite cruel to love… But why are you so obsessed with England? Didn't you claim independence to get away from him?" The french fiddled his short, curly ponytail, silently trying to fish out the truth on why America spent so much time to find him.

"Exactly… My independence is to get freedom so that I am no longer chained to his influence. England deserves better. Him constantly pouring his care to me and trapping me with his way of running the people is… GAH! Whatever!" America covered his face with a pillow, kicking France off the bed.

"_Aie_! What was that kick for?!" France stood up and took another pillow and slammed it down to the other's stomach, delivering his revenge in nothing more than a soft puff, inflicting zero pain.

America didn't respond to the attack. The French saw just how serious America was in the matter of subject. He pulled the pillow off the american's face, witnessing the rare sight of a very solemn expression from the other.

"I want to be free…" America stretched his hand up, virtually reaching up to the heavens above. "Until all men is free, we will be prisoners of slavery bound by land. I just want England to know that his ways aren't always the best."

_Slavery_. That word was enough to touch the french's heart. Sure England might be a little 'in control' at some point, but America having intense determination to find the brit was questionable. "But… Why are you so eager to find him?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you…" groaned America, a small touch of somnolence hanging by each breath as he told his story.

One simple story that paints many truth.

A withered truth that was best retold before history will really burry it in time, making it impossible for others to know.

And the only two people who now knew was France and America.

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**A/N : Forgive me if this story is based more on 'war' than romance. I am planning to put a romance story for America with somebody else ( and with who remains a secret ) and Canada's tragic love story. Yeah~ I believe tragic stories last longer in one's heart that those happily-ever-after kind. This story didn't get much likes or reviews ( not that I care, my sis pointed this out ), but yeah~ Writing this is fun enough for me~**


	7. I Am Mother Russia

**A/N : Sorry for making this chapter a little bit... abusive... Belarus fans might hate me for what happened during the second part of the chapter after the line/dot break. I warned you... Even I hate myself for writing this. A very VERY little touch of Giripan here~**

* * *

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 7 : I Am Mother Russia

The tall and constantly feared nation, Russia walked alone along the borders of Japan, breathing in the cold autumn air of a totally unfamiliar space. The footprints left behind him turned to ice.

An arrow was shot towards him, but he easily caught it just in time, twisting and breaking it with his fingers. On the tip of the arrow coated deadly poison. Whoever shot that arrow certainly does not want Russia to be around. Tied around the body of the arrow was a rather small and thin paper. He ripped the paper off the arrow, reading it without any sign of fear.

_ 'You are invading Japanese territory, leave immediately.'_

Russia giggled, rolling the paper childishly into a ball and let it drop to the ground. "You never failed to amuse me, Japan~ Why don't you come out and play before I visit your people~" yelled Russia happily. Luckily, he was alone there that morning. If people were to see him, one or more might fall victim to the russian's cold hands. With the first sight of light still hiding under the horizon, he repeatedly sang his 'playing proposal' out loud in a disturbing manner, making sure he was heard by the master of that land.

And then, another nation appeared in front of him, but he was not the one the russian seek. The nation stood almost as tall as he was while wearing a brown jacket over a white t-shirt. In his hand held a clean silver cross.

Two nations faced each other. One with face shown power and intimidation and the other with unworldly ambience.

"I am here to give you a warning, Russia… Leave Japan immediately…" said the greek, a mixture of seriousness and slacking displayed on his face. He held his cross up, pointing it towards the russian in an odd fighting stance.

Russia didn't seemed subdued by those words. He was smiling an innocent smile, folding his hands happily behind his back. "Ahaha~ I'm not here to fight, Mr. Greece. I'm just here to pick China up~. He is here, _da_? The only one who would possibly separate us is that fucking Japan~" He kept his mind relaxed, not wanting to release his monstrous side… yet.

Heracles didn't answer. He just stood still as his whole body tensed up, ready for a strike. His grip to his cross firmed. The look he shot at the russian clearly shown that his mouth was sealed, lips never shall leak of anything.

The more Russia waited for a reply, the more rage inside of him grow tremendously. That killing instinct started to take over his conscience, turning him into that famous heartless king. His pupil fixed, eyes dead as all of his sanity automatically left his mind. "Hey…" the russian said, a sinister smile carved widely from ear to ear. "Why are you playing with China for a long time…? He's supposed to play with me now~ He's mine, you see…?"

A fight was about to happen. Before receiving the first strike, the greek swung the cross. He directed all his strength into that swing, dashing towards the russian. When he finally delivered the hit, Russia didn't even stagger one bit. The sound from the impact was loud, yet he shown no signs of pain.

"A weak hit like that? Are you human, Mr. Greece? Did Japan took your lands as well?" asked the russian, still smiling and hands folded back. Each word he spoke came out as teasing chirps of a young child.

The greek didn't answer. He concentration fully pinned to any openings the russian might have.

Greece was famous for his unworldly tranquil aura and his attitude of doing everything in his own very slow pace.

Sadly, he was no longer Greece. He was at that moment known as Heracles Karpusi, the grecian who served under the influence of Japanese power.

"Human or not, I can still bend the forces of nature to match my leader's commands…" With the weapon still pressed against the other's resistant body, Heracles smiled calmly. Electricity flowed from his hand, traveling in large watts to Russia's entire body through the metal cross.

The energy of the shock was too strong that it burnt some part of Russia's leather coat. What a shock it was for Heracles when Russia simply lifted the cross off his shoulder. Heracles felt like he was being thrown off by a force as strong as a typhoon.

Heracles landed perfectly on the ground. With each movement of his staff, electricity follows behind, binding to any object nearby. He repositioned himself to his fighting stance again. This time, he will wait for Russia to move first.

"So you can produce lightning or that sort? Must be pretty hard for a 'human' to hide that ability, _da_?" Russia purposely tried to provoke the greek. He dusted some of the ashes off his coat. "That didn't even hurt… But where did you learn to fight like that, Mr. Greece? I… want it…"

"I used to believe that fighting is a way of entertainment. So yeah… I did a lot of fighting in my old days… But…" Heracles spun his silver cross around professionally like he was born as one with the weapon. "I don't usually move around, but fighting is in my blood, inherited since the ages of Mesopotamia…"

"Hmm…? Is that so? But what can one man do against Mother Russia?" As the greek thought, Russia made the next move. He pulled out two revolvers under his trench coat, pointed them towards the greek and fires right after he made aim.

On the other hand, Heracles deflected the bullet with his cross, sparks glinted as two metal vessels collide. From the tip of the cross, he shot out chains of electric at the russian. Little to no effect was made.

"As I told you before~ A mere human can't possibly hurt Mother Russia~" Russia grinned with every shot made. But as time passed, Heracles speed increased, and the russian began to take little steps back due to the continuous force against him.

Heracles continued his attacks. Whatever it was he did seemed to be working.

Russia was tired of this 'game'. He swiftly dashed towards the greek, snapping the other's weapon. He then tipped the revolver to Heracles' chest, pulling the trigger with no hesitation.

The greek dodged the attack in time by kicking the gun and flipped backwards. He continued to do so to keep his distance from the russian. If he was to somehow win the battle, he must learn of the other's weakness, or at least what he was able to do.

"I promise I won't hurt you~ Or Japan~ Just…" Russia dropped his weapons, his hands aiming to rip the other's neck. His killing intension was so strong, all of his senses were focused on the greek alone. No matter how far the other jumped, he would always dashed there in time to deliver at least something even though they missed.

The greek's skills were far superior. But he made a mistake of placing his foot at an angle not suitable for jumping. To reposition his stance took time, allowing the russian to finally pin him down. "Got you, _da_?"

Russia cooped his hand around Heracles' neck, strangling him full strength. The greek released his broken cross, feeling pain and drowsiness all over his body.

And so, he was forced to use his triumph card.

From the heavens above, one single lightning struct the russian. The impact was great even for him. His body numbed for a few seconds, allowing the greek to escape.

Heracles coughed up a little bit of blood. Never before did he experienced such great pressure against him. He wiped off the blood dripping from the edges of his mouth. "Leave now… I don't want to do this, but you left me with no choice…"

The russian actually struggled to get up on his feet. His eyes spiritless, showing no soul at all. Every breath he exhaled turned to icy mist. "Weapons of war~ It is Mother Russia~" laughed Russia hysterically.

The same as one year ago at the conference in Athens, Greece happened. Thunderclouds formed, rough wind threw everything around off ground. The skies obeyed the greek's every command. His eyes glowed as he was lifted slightly above ground. The wind danced madly around him. Grey clouds spiraled above them, showers of blinding lightning will soon shower the earth.

Russia lifted his hands up, the area around his radius froze. "Do you know what I can do to this place…? I guess this is a battle of speed~ Who will kill who first~"

Just when everything around supposed to be demolished by sacrileges by the two sides, when the russian release whatever it is he planned, when the greek commanded the heavens to release their fury, everything stopped after a glaring flash. All changes caused by the both of them disappeared. The sky was clear and the frozen ground green. In a distant stood one man. The light of dawn still wasn't sufficient to figure out who the man was. But the silhouette was enough to know who he was.

"Greece-san? Destroying this place is not necessary. Remember how destructive your powers can be…" the man said with his japanese accent.

Russia was shocked to see his move cancelled out just like that. He desperately tried to summon out his attacks, but absolutely nothing came out. "Hmm…? nothing happened?"

"Japan…" Heracles rushed by Japan's side, shielding him from Russia. "You're supposed to be home, hidden from the outside world…" His eyes locked to the russian, no way was he going to let his precious 'master' touched by other hostiles.

"It is alright, Greece-san… There is nothing more he can do… He shall be purified in my presence." Japan slowly walked towards Russia, passing Heracles as if he doesn't exist.

Heracles didn't mind since he knew very well what price Japan had to pay in order to work his ability.

Russia looked up to the japanese's dark empty eyes, attempting another strike. With powers or not, he knew his blows can be quite massive. And Japan's body was not built for endurance.

While walking front, Japan twirled his finger in mid air, conducting lightning that was the same as Heracles' glow. "You have no business of coming here, Russia-san… I do not wish to rip your power off your pitiful life…"

Ever since Greece officially belonged to Japan, the Japanese are free to use all greek influence including this 'potential', though it was true that Greece turned human, no longer immortal like the other standing nation.

Japan was left open as he walk, giving complete chance for Russia to crush his throat under his powerful grip.

The russian lift Japan up, waiting to see him fight for breath. All the flashbacks of those time when he tortured Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia the same way brought great entertainment to him, not that he realized of his own cruelty.

"Hey… Japan…? Do you see MY China anywhere…? He's supposed to play with me… forever~" Russia chuckled as he smiled, his hold getting stronger by the second.

Yet, Japan didn't move. He slowly moved his static-covered hand, reaching out for the other's heart. By the time Russia noticed this, he was too late to move back. If a pure lightning strike were to struck his heart, and also with all these recent nature's law-defying events, who knows what will happen to Moscow.

Russia braced himself for the worst, but his efforts were unneeded. A silver knife thrown and stabbed Japan's hand before the japanese could hurt the russian. Another two knives pierced the side of Japan's chest.

A hooded woman too fast too see kicked Japan off Russia's grip. She growled and tore the skins of Japan's back. Heracles witnessed everything in horror, his blood boiled. He ran towards the attacker, tackling her as his whole body turned to lightning.

The greek's attempt successfully freed the japanese, blood dripping on the ground. As the greek fought furiously with the woman, he yelled at Japan, desperately asking him to escape. "You have to go, now! Let me handle this battle!"

The woman returned the greek's attacks by a series of swift slices, all barely dodged just by a few millimeters. Heracles roared off a gust of wind, sending the woman flying back and landed with a painful fall, head first.

A normal human would've died by that kind of fall. The woman gradually wriggled back up to her feet, her hood torn, revealing her identity as Russia's sister, Belarus. But something was wrong with her. Her irises glowed an intense red, almost like a demon.

Belarus growled again, her voice sounded doubled. "Get away from my brother!" She madly looked at Russia, running to his side while holding long and sharp swords in each hand. "Brother…? Are you ok…?" She asked gently and innocently. "I won't let them hurt you again! We'll live happily ever after!"

From under her apron, Belarus dropped a flash bomb, blinding both Heracles and Japan for a few seconds, allowing Russia and her to escape.

By the time Heracles regained sight, the enemy was nowhere to be seen. He searched around for Japan who was lying on the grass filled with yellow chrysanthemum flowers.

"Japan! Hand in there!" Heracles dashed to Japan's side, embracing the other with his strong hands. He inspected the wounds, the knife still stuck to Japan's body. "Shit… This is my fault for being too weak…"

"Greece-san…?" Japan stretched his hand out, searching for his greek man. "Where are you…?"

Every word heard was painful for Heracles. He tenderly held the other's stretched hand, squeezing them tightly to his chest. "I'm here… I'm right here… Let's get you home and treat your wounds… I know these kind of damage won't kill you, but it hurts, right…?"

Heracles moved Japan's hands so that the other would hold on to his neck. The greek carried his fragile body bridal style as he was afraid of hurting the other more.

Japan hugged the greek tighter, trying so hard to prevent his tears from falling. "I don't like this war… I don't want to see this murders… I want to see you instead… Will I be able to see you again, Greece-san…?"

Ever since Japan discovered his ability, Heracles became protective, so much that he even gave up his rights as a country just so Japan could get hold of his powers. This scared the japanese.

And using his own powers was just as fearful. Because the price he had to pay was something he cannot tolerate…

It was to lose everything bit of connection with his loved ones.

"My heart is staggered… I can see every colors of the world clearly, yet you remained invisible in my eyes… As if… you don't exist…" And while it was true that the japanese cannot see the greek man, he could still feel his touch, his body heat, and hear his voice. For now, a small smile marked his face, the smile that shows his relief of hearing the other's heartbeat. "But you will always be by my side, yes…? You're the only friend I can truly count on…"

The calm smile on Japan's face made Heracles blush. His cherry pink lips tempted the greek to have a small taste of it as he slowly closed the distance between the two. Before that desired kiss would come true, he pulled himself away, biting his lips hard. He have no time for games. Japan was hurt, bleeding, yet he shown no sign of pain, smiling himself off.

"You don't have to worry about me, Greece-san… I found a way to tolerate physical wounds…"

_ Please stop smiling, Japan… I know you are in great pain..._

.

Back in the belarusian's house, Belarus laid his older brother on her bed, immediately tending his wounds.

"Brother… Are you alright…? Did they hurt you real bad…?" asked Belarus in a motherly tone while cleaning Russia's small wounds, ignoring her own.

"Why did you take me away from that place…? I have to go back…" Russia gently pushed the other's hand away, stood up and walked towards the door.

Belarus tried to stop him by pulling on his trench coat, but she instantly let go when Russia glared at her. "Brother… Please… You mustn't go… Let me go instead. Just please… Don't go… They will hurt you!"

"I have to go… China needs me…"

"Brother, NO!" Belarus held the russian back with all her might, certainly not letting go any time soon. Her glowing red eyes pooled with tears looked into her brother's eyes, begging to be heard.

No matter how many times Russia shoved her away, Belarus would stood up and stop him again. But everything had it's limit when Russia finally slapped the other hard on the cheek. The sobbing woman's cheek swollen, blood dripped from her lips and nose. After that, she didn't struggle anymore. But Russia was still enraged.

"Why won't you stop chasing me?! For years, you have caused me nothing but fear! You're driving me mad, sister!" The russian took a whip he always kept at the back of his belt. He started whipping the belarusian mercilessly. "Don't ever interfere in my game with China! If I ever see you messing around in my business again, consider our family bond broken forever! Just like your sick mind…"

The beating continues for several rounds. Belarus screamed and begged for the russian to stop ultimately disregarded. Her voice echoed throughout the four main walls of the settlement. The strong smell of blood snapped his brain back to reality. Hands trembling as he dropped the whip.

Belarus shivered in pain. Parts of her skin peeled and slightly bleeding. She no longer had the strength to move, only able to rot there as madness spiraled into her mind.

Russia braced himself, removed his scarf and threw them harshly towards his sister. "Don't ever come for me…"

For him, the scarf Ukraine gave him was special. It was the first gift he received, a scarf long enough to warm his whole family. A present he held dearly and something he would fight to retrieve.

It was also a reminder of his ties with his family, which sadly, he must let go.

When Russia left the place, Belarus cried her heart out, blaming herself for her failure of stopping his brother.

Russia left Belarus alone in her room, feeling nothing in heart. He reached out for the doorknob of the main door downstairs. Someone opened the door before he could touch the knob. Face-to-face, he met an old ally who he didn't see for a while.

"Um…" mumbled the russian.

"Ah… R-Russia… I-It's me… Lithuania…" Lithuania looked down to his feet, one hand fiddled the his brown bangs while the other hid a bouquet of rose behind him.

"Yes… Lithuania…" said Russia, a little bit shocked of the other's different image. "You cut your hair…" He tried to at least crack up a small smile. "You look nice~ It suits you."

"T-Thanks…" Lithuania blushed. "I-It's been a year since we met. I don't know what you all discussed in that meeting, but everyone seemed to be busy since then. A-And I'm worried about your well being too."

"Well…" Frost began coating the ground and greeneries around, but Lithuania did not find it odd since it's always cold there. "You don't have to worry about me, little Lithuania… After all.. I AM Mother Russia..."

Russia gently patted the other's head. This made the lithuanian blushed a darker shade of red, almost dropping his flowers.

The russian chuckled, a feeling he felt long time ago bloomed small in his soul, a feeling he longed forgotten. And now, he had to forget it all over again in order to achieve his goals. "You're here to visit my sister, _da_? On your feet and go now~"

And just like that, Russia left, bringing the cold essence of the air with him.

"Mr. Russia seems different… Seriously… What is it that they discussed during the last con-"

Lithuania dropped the thought aside. He merrily entered the belarusian's house to meet her, a sincere smile on his face.

* * *

**A/N : Congratulations if you actually finished reading this. I know many quit half way because I suck. Anyway, I might add more romance in this one depending on how the people's response and demands are. Till we meet again~**


	8. Doubt

**A/N : A little touch of Spamano won't hurt, yes...? Better give them both time to be together before I rip them apart~ And sorry for the long chapter... Goodness... It's almost 5000 words...**

* * *

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 8 : Doubt

"Ice… Come on… Creating human names for ourselves might be fun…" Norway bugged his little brother with endless pokes to the cheek. "I heard that the other countries have them too…"

Despite the disturbance, Iceland calmly drank his hot cocoa while reading his paperworks. "For the billionth times, no… Names are not to be taken lightly… Human names are for humans, as simple as that…"

Norway took the mug of cocoa from Iceland's hand and took a sip. "It's not like using human names would literally turn us human…"

"No… Just… No… Using human names means you're human… Whatever… You won't understand even if I tell you, Norway…" Iceland looked at the supposed-to-be-his cocoa, then he continued reading his papers. "And make me another hot cocoa… Indirect kiss is not allowed in this house…"

"But I only took one sip…" said Norway, drinking the whole mug of cocoa clean within a few seconds.

.

Another hour passed, yet it felt like months. Antonio looked out to the outside world through the only tiny window of the room.

His hands were chained to the posts of the canopy bed, the skin around his wrist began to bleed due to constant struggle to escape those modified chains. Scratches were found all over his neck and face and a deep unattended wound marked his thigh, staining the white bed sheet with an ugly dye of red.

"Spain~ Let's play tomato hunt again, jerk!" Those voices rang so naturally in his head, he grew psychotic by the second. "Hurry up! Stop sniffing those letters from my stupid _fratello_!" demanded the voice. A sudden clear image appeared right in front of his eyes. It was Romano, HIS Romano, smiling worriedly as he held out a big ripe tomato. "Bastard… You don't have to worry about me. Go and finish your work."

Sadly it was all just a mournful illusion.

"Heh… This is driving me insane…" mumbled the spaniard in a cracked voice. Tears were beginning to pool around his eyes again. "Shit…" A small smile forced upon his face as he battled with another wave of emotion. "Why am I still bound to such past that no longer exist…?"

The clouds of his own regret of not able to protect his most precious chocked him. Antonio could still remember every picture, every sound, exactly everything that happened when England took the life of his dear henchman right in front of him without mercy. His memory decided to play that scene over and over again in his mind, with each time planted new seeds of rue in that little bit of heart he had left.

Antonio closed his eyes, releasing all his anxiety. "Why do I feel this weak…? It was as if… I have… no energy left…" He could feel his conscience slowly seeping out of him. All that blood loss and open wound made his body shiver, coldness attacked his bones.

Talking to the walls, he laid himself in a position comfortable enough to make him sleep. "I just need a quick shuteye… Then I'll be my old self again, the land where the sun never sets…" Very soon, he dozed off, mumbling something he himself wasn't quite sure.

The spaniard dreamed about those moments he used to spend with his Romano, especially during their time at the beach and the tomato field, a secret garden that belonged only to the both of them. He just stood there, watching himself and Romano from a distance, smiling. "Well… I guess living in this dream is okay enough…" His lips curled up into a nervous smirk as he scratched the back of his head.

He felt slight touches to his face, yet nothing was there. Those uncomfortable sensation soon rip him out of the dream. He was once again in the room where he was locked in.

"_Mierda_!" The spaniard shouted out loud. "_Dios, por qué_?!"

"Shut up, bastard! No God would hear you if you use those language, jerk." whispered a small voice he recognized instantly.

"Why are you still here, _Inglaterra_…?" hissed Antonio, his tone muffled by disappointment and tiredness.

"Fuck. You. _Pomodoro_. _Bastardo_. How many times do I have to tell you? I am Romano, _Italia Meridionale, Sud Italia_, whatever you used to call me…" Romano's tanned face lit in slight red. "O-Or… Your tomato…"

Antonio copied the same shade of red, hearing the name he reserved only for his henchman. "How did you know?! That is a secret known only by Romano and I!"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I AM Romano." Romano ended his sentence with a small sigh as usual.

"That's a lie. The Romano I knew had the most cutest and most beautiful emerald eyes in the world, and his messy blonde hair is one of a kind!" Antonio shoved himself further away from the other. But the chains around his hand made it painful for him to move. The surface of the metal covered by dry blood, doubling the scent of rust.

Romano noticed the chains. He ordered the bodyguards behind him to remove those chains, speaking in italian with his deep accent. The guards obeyed without a word. As soon as Antonio was released, he delivered a good punch to one of the guards. That caused havoc within the room where many of the ones in black suits raging to defend their fallen brother.

"_Stai zitto, idiota_!" The room instantly silenced by the italian's single command. He raised his hand, signaling everyone to leave the room.

Only the both of them remained. Antonio glared at the other with pure hatred. Romano stood still, scanning the spaniard's face. "Bastard…"

Romano reached for the other's face. Those unfamiliar hand somehow made the spaniard stiffed in fear. Everything about the other made him completely vulnerable, zero in power.

As if he was human.

Antonio closed his eyes, braced himself for the next batter.

Expecting a series of beating, he felt warm and gentleness instead. He dared not to open his eyes, but the touch he felt on his face was toasty, mild and reassuring, the same one he felt in his dream.

"Oi, Spain… Don't fucking shiver so much… Cleaning your fucking face is not easy, jerk!" Although Romano said that, he was smiling with pure joy and sincerity.

That explained the sensation. Romano was cleaning his scratches on his face with antiseptic and white gauze. Gentle strokes feels light against his skin. Second by second, that fear inside of the spaniard shed away, replacing with soothe and security. His eyelids leisurely opened, having a better view of his hated enemy.

"Why…?" Antonio asked. "Why would you do this for me?"

Continuing to tend the wounds, Romano casually answered. "There's no use arguing with you, is there? You'll just go blabber on with that emerald eyes and blonde hair or whatever." Romano emphasized on a few words. A small chuckle escaped his breath.

"What are you laughing at, _Inglaterra_?" Antonio eyed the other in suspicion. Every movement he saw alarmed his senses to stay sharp.

And again, the italian kept calm. "I can't remember the last time I did this to you. Remember the time when you came back home with injuries like this, and I wanted to be the one to tend your wounds that I ended up growling at the doctors?" Romano finished his treatment with a last patch to the other's cheek. He gave one small flick to Antonio's nose and turned away, rearranging the first aid kit. "Done."

The pain lessened. Antonio could move more comfortably without jerking from any pain. He touched his thigh where a huge wound supposed to be there, but it was already closed up by some bandages or possibly a few stitches. Same goes for the rest of his body where the damages were quite serious.

"I don't understand… How can England do all of this things for me…?" whispered Antonio to himself, feeling all those bandages around his arm.

Romano pretended not to hear anything, rolling all the extra dressings into a ball to throw them later. Once he was done, he walked towards the broken mirror on the wall. He scanned the object thoroughly. "They told me everything on how you tried to kill yourself. I'm kinda happy that you would be this sad, knowing that you lost me. But suicide is plain stupid… It's not like you."

The italian picked up a piece of broken mirror from the floor, the sharpest edge covered by blood. "Usually when something bad happens, you would spend time in your little shop, drinking all the tomato juice. Even during these times, you never fail to smile if I visit. And your turtles are damn annoying… Fucking little bastards…"

"Kill me for all I care…" monologued the spaniard in heart. He would probably get killed afterwards, so why not make the first move? Silently and quietly, he got off the bed, planning to choke the other. Plan failed when his knees suddenly grew weak and was about to fall.

The italian quickly turned around. With the sharp broken mirror still in hand, he ran towards the spaniard. It was normal reaction for Antonio to be alerted. His eyes caught sight of the gun hanging around Romano's waist.

Fast as Romano was, Antonio grabbed hold of the other's gun when they were close enough. With no strength in his legs, he took aim and shoot before he would fall. The sound of gunshot rang throughout the still room, an effort good enough, so he rested his eyes as he let his body fall.

"You big dick fucking jerk of a tomato bastard!"

"H-Huh…?"

Antonio didn't fall. Romano was there to catch him. Though the piece of glass was still at hand, he didn't point them at Antonio. Like an angry father, Romano took the gun off Antonio's hand and threw them along with the mirror aside. Both arms wrapped around the spaniard's limp body, distance between them zero, chins rested on each other's shoulder.

"Don't fucking do something that stupid…" whispered the italian, his hands holding the other tighter. "What if your stupid act stupidly hurt your stupid self…?"

Even with that much hate Antonio bore against the other, his strength wasn't there to push Romano away. His mind fired up to battle, but his body gave up. "I thought I already shot you… You're supposed to back down…"

"Back then, even England would struggle from this wound. But that was centuries ago." Romano pulled the both of them apart. Antonio's face paled when he saw a visible hole in the middle of the other's chest, revealing the beating heart as blood poured from the wound. "It's past… We can take more than what we can ages ago. And I'm not a little child anymore. I'm independent."

One brute bodyguard entered the room without knocking. "I am sorry for the disturbance, sir. But we cannot wait much longer after hearing a gunshot. Is ther-" Terror filled his face. Looking at the openly beating heart of the person they were supposed to protect wasn't a normal sight for a human being.

Romano held his hand up again to shush the bodyguard, moving as if he sustained no injury. "We're going to Venezia…"

"Sir. You're shot."

"I see that. Don't tell the other bastards outside. I don't want to make them all anti-Spain." Romano stood up as his loyal bodyguard covered him with his oversized black coat. The italian nation's figure seemed smaller somehow, his thin bandaged hand pulled the coat closer to cover the wound.

Antonio just sat there, unable to interpret the situation clearly. All that was in his mind was how he mercilessly hurt the other while he himself being protected. The feeling in his heart ached to the extend of paralyzing his body. So much was done for him, yet he only contributed to violence.

Romano walked towards Antonio and tilted his chin up with one hand. "Let's go…" Another warm smile. "You haven't eaten in days, _si_?"

.

Antonio sat alone at a small round table meant for two. On the table laid full sets of cutleries and a beautifully lit carved candle. The sight of water and aqueduct seemed familiar, but his memory remembered nothing.

The silverwares in front of him might serve as a weapon against Inglaterra. "It couldn't hurt to try one more time…" Although nobody was there with him, the spaniard knew he was watched from a distance by those bulky men with guns. So he stood up and pretended to slip, hiding a rather sharp bread knife into his sleeve. As he hoped, nobody noticed his scheme. "This time, I'll make him pay for sure…"

Romano arrived, taking a seat in front of Antonio. His face slightly flushed as he avoided eye contact with the spaniard. "Dammit… It feels like a date or something…"

A bad way to start a conversation indeed. Antonio didn't say anything as he was too focused on searching for an opening to strike. Romano noticed the other's gestures, sensing the tense atmosphere.

"If you're trying to do anything funny, the mafia guarding this border will not hesitate to tranquilize you. And I hear that you made another fuss when they gave you that new set of clothes…" Romano darted his eyes somewhere else as he spoke. "Get a proper shower and I'll patch your ass up again. But first…"

Romano lost his temper. He banged his hand on the table. "Fuck the chefs! Why the heck do they take so long to bring the dishes here?! _Cazzo_!"

"Seeing him acting like my Roma makes me sick…" thought Antonio, but he dared not to say a word. His gaze grew sharper with every second past.

The waiter came and brought two plates hooded by a silver cover. "Forgive us for the delay, sir…" He directed his stare to Romano. "We have a little extra company." The waiter then lifted the silver covers, giving air to the two perfect plates of steamy spaghetti with extra tomatoes. "Everything had been taken care of. Enjoy your meal, sir." With that, he left.

Romano waited for Antonio to have the first bite before touching his own food. Hesitantly, the spaniard grabbed the fork and shovel the pasta for a bite. He had to admit, the cooking wasn't half bad.

"So… What do you think of my cooking. If you really are Spain, you would remember that this was the first recipe you taught me." The italian was playing around with his fork, too busy reminiscing of the past.

"Hmph… My Roma's cooking isn't like this… His cooking is special…" Antonio continued taking small bites. Thinking back, the taste and look of the pasta were familiar. And he definitely remembered teaching Romano the recipe. "And if you really made these, why did the person just now brought them here instead of you?"

"I got a phone call from Milan right after I finished, so I leave the shitty work of those plate stuff to them." Romano's lips curled up a cracked half smile, pointing the tip of the fork at the spaniard. "Special huh…? Is that how you describe my cooking back when I was a cute and small baby? I remembered you screaming for water when I first cooked this dish, and from that point on, you were the one to do the cooking… Special my ass."

Shocked, Antonio dropped his fork. He never told anyone about his Roma's first cooking. he began to doubt his own beliefs, but every print of memory slayed all uncertainties. The person in front of him was certainly _Inglaterra_.

"Oi, Spain… You dropped your-"

Another 'business' call. With a small sigh, Romano gave the other a look of annoyance before leaving. "Shit calling trying to kill the mood… Stay still…"

That opened the opportunity for Spain to act. He didn't care if he was tranquilized or shot down. Once the other left, he stealthily followed from behind, leaving back his shoes for lighter footsteps and ready to pull out the knife that was still in his sleeve.

Antonio hid behind the walls. Hearing his target talking on the phone made him nervous. There was a moment of silence that allowed him to be calm enough to strike.

The spaniard was right behind the other, knife hovering behind Romano's neck. But then he froze again when the italian began to speak. He wasn't sure why he acted like a coward. He took countless lives mercilessly before, why would he hesitate now?

"I don't care if the assassins will target me tonight. I just want my _fratellino_ to be safe and hidden. And as for Spain…" Romano's expression softened, his eyes almost in tears. "I'll be there for him… I can't afford to lose him right now… He went through extreme length to keep me under his wings centuries ago… Now it's my turn to protect him… Aside from keeping him and Veneziano safe, recovering his memories is my next top priority."

Another moment of silence, yet Antonio didn't move.

Tears flowed down the italian's cheeks. His free hand gripped the trims of his uniform hard. "I don't know… I seriously don't know what to do, France… What should I do if he will never be the Spain I love again…? I won't lie… I do love him… More than anything in this world…" He had to stop for a while to sob up his tears. "Please… Tell me what to do to get him back…"

Antonio heard enough. The new emotion bloomed inside of him drove him mad.

Romano felt an uneasy aura behind him, so he turned to look, but nobody was there.

"_Mon ami_… What is the matter?" said the voice over the phone.

"N-Nothing… A-Absolutely nothing…" The italian's voice was shaky as tears hung loosely to his eyelashes. By then, his voice sound broken and sobs escaped his throat. "L-Listen, France… Thanks for listening… You're not much of an ass after all…"

He finally chuckled, trying to at least smile. "You p-pervert… I'm hanging up… Oh… And France…?"

"_Oui_…?"

"_Grazie_…" Not wanting to make Antonio wait, Romano disconnected their conversation and shoved the phone into his pocket. "Heh… Stupid perverted wine bastard… Of course Spain is my boss…" He wiped his face dry with his sleeve and slapped himself lightly for several times before heading back.

Antonio ate the pasta string by string. He couldn't savor the flavor of the freshly cooked meal, not since his mind was filled with thoughts of unreadable questions, his eyes dead.

Romano peeked the spaniard from a distance. He took a deep breath in and out before taking his seat. "Sorry for the disturbance… Anyway…"

"Don't talk to me…" growled Antonio.

Words hurt Romano more than the gunshot, but he still tried to make at least a small conversation with the spaniard. "Well… You used to be the one to talk about how we should talk to each other during family meals. And remember that one time when we both found an abandoned tomato field? You're the one to nourish and take care of them. And that field had been our secret place ever since I can remember…"

The spaniard said nothing. He minded his own business.

"Hey… And you also travelled to Sicily all the way from your place by boat just to say hi, then you got scolded by your boss for wasting resources?" Hope sparked inside the italian's eyes. Telling the moments they shared together might just make Antonio remember.

Once again, Antonio completely ignored the other.

Waiting for a response which clearly will never be given, Romano sighed. "Want to visit Piazza San Marco? You always loved Veneziano's plac-"

"WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT?! I DON'T CARE ABOUT REMEMBER THIS AND REMEMBER THAT! I KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU ARE AND DON'T YOU DARE TALK LIKE MY ROMA!" Antonio tipped the table over, sending all the silverwares and food scattering in all direction.

Romano was knocked over too. He fell down, uneaten pasta all over his chest and thigh, staining his uniform.

A small brush of regret shadowed over the spaniard as the italian looked into his eyes. Romano's already-red eyes might just cry again, but he didn't. Instead, he removed his uniform, revealing the freshly bandaged wound and stood up, smiling. "I guess that's a no then… I'm not that hungry anyway… They will escort you to your new room… If you ever need me, my room is just one hallway across yours… I-I'll be going then…"

When Romano walked away, something inside of Antonio shouted to stop the other by all means, but at the same time, something disallowed him.

It was tearing him apart from inside.

.

Antonio laid down on a new and clean bed inside of a new room. But the windows were barred, nothing else around the room, just one king-size bed. In one corner of the room was a security camera to keep an eye on him. With no way of hurting others or himself, he just laid there, staring at the ceiling. The light shower of rain outside made the evening air cold.

_ I don't get it… I hate him… I hate him from the core of my soul…! Why won't he just die? He did took Roma away from me, so it's only fair for him to pay an equal price! Argh! This is insane!_

He thought he was alone, then he heard whispers. Antonio immediately shot off the bed and gazed wildly around the room, searching for the source of the sound.

The sound of rain made it harder for him to find the sound. Minutes of searching later revealed that the sound came from the door. He laid down the floor and placed his ear near the thin hole under the door. The whispers turned out to be sobs and wails, both from the same person - '_Inglaterra_'.

Antonio leaned his back against the door, covering his eyes with one palm. "Shit… Why am I feeling sorry for that pathetic bastard? Serves him right! Ahahahaa!"

_Lies_.

He did feel sorry for his action. But what good would it be, since he cannot possibly rewind time. His actions were permanent.

"Shit…" He had to live through the night with this regret on his shoulder. It would be a miracle for him to get any seconds of sleep.

The rain outside became an unexpected storm lighted by lightning. The sound of thunder above them vibrated throughout the wooden house. A few thunders later, the main power fuse of the mansion short-circuited, bringing down all power supply of the place.

Antonio stared into the camera that he knew no longer worked. The guilt inside of him took over. "God! How can I show my face in front of Roma after doing such a heartless thing, even if it's just England?!"

Luck was on his side. With the camera and other lights in the house dead, nobody would be there to watch him. The spaniard stood up and tried the door, but it was locked.

"By the grace of the seven seas, this is just wood!" Antonio kicked the door down, startling two bodyguards on duty. With a quick chop to the neck, both were knocked out.

As he hoped, the hallway was dark. He remembered Romano telling him that their rooms were only one hallway across. The next lightning strike gave him enough light to see the structure of the place. There were only two doors - one his and the other one must be Romano's. Five guards stood in his way, but they looked distracted.

Antonio muffled in the dark, knocking them out one by one, until finally he reached the other door. His hands trembling as he reached out to hold the doorknob. Luck was on his side again, the door wasn't locked.

As silently as the spaniard can, he opened the door to let himself in, remembering to lock the door behind him. Each footstep carefully made so that the other won't know he was there. It appeared that Romano was sleeping.

Looking at the other's red eyelids and tear stained face, Antonio assumed that the other must've cried himself to sleep.

The spaniard noticed a gun hidden under the pillow. That was his chance to end the 'game' once and for all, to be victorious in that battle.

Antonio took the gun, running his fingers at the finely designed edge of the weapon. It was a struggle to point the gun at the sleeping italian.

_ Shit… Just pull the trigger and everything will be even… No more crazy thoughts… No more endless questions…_

In the end, his arm relaxed, dropping the gun. The sound might be loud enough to wake the italian up, but he didn't care. "Tch… Just for tonight…"

Antonio climbed up the bed, laying himself beside Romano, facing each other. There were barely enough light to see anything, but he could see the lines of Romano's beautiful face.

"This kid really did cry himself to sleep… Cheap…" The spaniard felt the need to hold the other closer, and he did as so, sealing the both of them together in a tight embrace. "I hate myself… I feel so defiled…"

Their faces were a little bit too close. Antonio could smell the other's hair, quite a sweet scent to his nose. "For a brit, you smell like a tomato, _Inglaterra_…"

Romano jerked his head, curling himself closer to Antonio. The spaniard froze, afraid that he might just woke the other up, so tried to shove the italian away from him.

"S-Spain… Please come back…" Subconsciously, Romano hold onto the spaniard's sleeves, tears escaping his eyes again.

"Such a prick in the ass…" Antonio was against the situation, but he pulled the other closer. Romano did the same, refusing to let go. "You had always been a cry baby, _Inglaterra_…"

Under the little light shone upon them, Romano's lips trembled, tipping to confess his heart's sorrow. Antonio sighed, cursing himself for the mess he got himself into. "Just for tonight… You owe me one, _Inglaterra_…"

Antonio stopped the other's tears by a simple kiss on the lips.

* * *

**A/N : Sorry for the sudden yaoi-ness. This story was ment to involve the whole world rather than a few OTP ( I noticed that most Hetalia fanfic is about romance and such. Think about those that disliked yaoi/yuri but loved Hetalia! They need fanfics too! ) *bricked* . This shouldn't have been romance based whatsoever. I want a war type story, not this QAQ! Anyway... More new characters coming up~ As I said, it involves the whole world.**


	9. Northern Horizon

**A/N : Cheesy chapter about America's 'Northern Horizon' team forming. Not so popular characters are used, it it might be uninteresting for many readers. Characters include Iceland, Norway, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and America. **

* * *

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 9 : Northern Horizon

_September 19, 2012 - Switzerland surrendered all influence of their land to the United States Of America under an official paper signed by both sides. Today marks the beginning of the 51st state of Ame-_

Somebody turned the television off before anyone in the house could hear the international news. Norway blinked, wondering who turned off his shows.

"Norway… How many times had I told you… You shouldn't listen to junks like this." Iceland held the remote in his hand, removing the batteries. "Let's go… We're visiting Fin's house. Sve wants us to help with Thanksgiving preparation."

Norway reached out for his younger brother. Laziness overpowered his body as he laid leisurely on the couch. "Remote…"

"No. We're going right now. I don't want to deal with late night flights."

"Iceland…" Norway finally stood up and held the other by the shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes. "I know you're hiding something…"

"The only thing I'm hiding from you is the remote…"

The norwegian gave his brother a few playful weak slaps to the cheek, the other arm shaking his shoulder. "Norway to Iceland… Do you hear me…? I KNOW you're hiding something." A short moment of silence. "Iceland…" whispered the older nation.

Iceland flinched at the sound of his name being called. Tears formed in his eyes, his face tried so hard to hold his cry back as if he was scolded.

"Hey… Don't be such a baby, Ice… It's okay if you don't want to talk about it…" Norway hugged his brother closer, hushing softly as he rubbed the other's back.

The icelander hugged his older brother by the waist. "Brother…" He jerked closer, burying his face to the other's chest. "None of your business…"

The thought of Iceland calling him 'brother' broke the tension in the air. Norway stroke his brother's hair, whispering something to his ear. "Ice… Call me brother one more time…"

Iceland pushed the other gently away, feeling disgusted by that previous sentence. His face soured, but eyes no longer crying. "That's creepy and disgusting, Norway… Get away from me…"

Both brothers looked at each other in the eye. And both ended up laughing.

.

Iceland tucked his older brother in bed, kissing his head before turning the lights off. "I'll help Fin and Sve downstairs. You just stay in bed for the night, Norway."

"I don't see why we have to celebrate Thanksgiving… It's not really our thing. But I still want to help you three out…" Norway tucked the think blanket closer to himself, securing the little warmth he had around.

"You fell sick as soon as we arrive here in finland. So stop being stubborn and stay there." Without further words from the icelander, he shut the door.

In finland's home,as do other years, Christmas was prepared early again. And somewhat that late September, the cold air of winter seeped into the bones of those who stepped on that nordic land.

The icelander was just about to walk into the kitchen where Sweden and Finland marinated a whole turkey, then his phone rang. He quickly ran to the living room and turned all lights off.

Silent and alone, Iceland sat on the couch, accepting the phone call. "This is Iceland. What do you want…"

"Ice, dude! This is America!" said one high pitched american across the phone.

"I know… So, what is it…?" Iceland massaged his brows, trying not to sound rude.

"Geez, Iceland. You don't have to use that tone on me. Anyway, just want to let you know that the mighty swiss army is under our influence, my 51st state! Ah! Too bad he's human now since his boss surrendered their rights and all those boring stuff…" The american's voice softened, almost sounding like that Canada person. "I know you hate to talk about stuff like human and the war. I just felt the need to let you know-"

"I cannot care less about other nation's affairs, as long as I'm the only representative of scandinavia." The icelander stood up and walked towards the unlit fireplace.

Some christmas decor embodied the mantel shelf of the fireplace. Of all those photos there, one caught the icelander's gaze, a family picture protected by wooden frame. He was the only one who didn't smile.

Iceland flipped the picture frame down, trying to forget what he just saw. "America… I don't need the other nords to cage themselves in this war. All this stupid things about powers against each other and these equal price to pay, they don't have to hear those shit."

"That's why, dude, you have us. We all have someone who we don't want to drag into this battle. That's your reason for joining my group, right?"

The icelander chuckled, a very rare act from the nordic who refused to smile most of the time. "I guess I did join your 'Northern Horizon' for that reason. I still think the name needs to change."

"What?! But dude! It sounds so heroic! Like Justice League or somethin'! We should help each other out. You're cool with that?" America laughed, hurting the other's ear with his loud laughter. "Everyone in the Horizon should help each other! And you're part of it too. That's why I'm calling to let you know about Switzerland."

"Whatever, America." smiled the icelander. "Just keep Norway and the others out this battle. And I will use everything in my power to stop suppress your curse."

"That means a lot, Iceland." A short silence from the american. "You sure you don't need a human name…?"

"I don't need it. Don't worry… They won't know that I'm human anyway… As long as I keep my mouth shut." Iceland looked at the clock. He should be helping the others ready for Thanksgiving. But he didn't need to tell America that, or else he would talk more nonsense. "That's all…" He hung up.

Sighing tiredly, he turned around to go back to the kitchen, only to find Norway standing there by the hallway door, his face red and breathing heavy by the odd fever. A nordic country falling ill was something very unlikely.

"I-…Ice…?" Norway pulled his blanket to cover his shoulders, his body shook uncontrollably in coldness.

"Norway…" Iceland dropped his phone. Seeing his older brother stood there shocked him. "How long have you been there…?"

"I-Ice…" His breath grew short. "I can't… breathe…"

"Brother…?"

The older of the two brother lost his balance as strength drained out of his legs, crashing to the floor.

Iceland froze when he saw his brother's body fall. He didn't react in time to catch his brother. "Brother!" He rushed to the other's side, giving no attention to the things he stumbled on. "Norway?"

The small norwegian didn't respond or move. Iceland held the other by the shoulder, shaking them in attempt of waking the other up.

Even with much vigorous shaking, Norway remained still. Panic struct Iceland's heart when he cannot find the pulse of his brother anywhere. He didn't know what to do. The only thing he could do was to scream out as loud as he can. "SVE! FIN!"

.

In an airport somewhere in the former country called Switzerland, one american nation shoved his phone back to his pocket after calling a certain nordic friend. He was sitting on a bench with another 'ally'.

"Well then Switze- I mean Vash… I guess this is goodbye." said the american to his swiss friend.

"Yeah…" Vash reloaded his handgun, then pointed it to the sky above. "I'll miss my guns…" The swiss placed the gun between the both of them, frowning at his last touch of the gun he kept for years.

"Don't you want to see your sister for the last time?" America fixed his gaze at a nearby indoor flower bed, his mind wandered somewhere.

Vash stood up, tipping his hat as a sign of gratitude. "Thanks for the concern. But… I don't have the rights to do that…" He lowered his head, refusing to see the other by the eye. "After all… I'm the reason she's in hospital… I didn't mean to shoot her with this… this monster inside of me…"

The swiss looked at his palm, disgusted by the thought of his own action. Both Liechtenstein and himself were eating dinner when unknown guns came out of the walls and all pointed towards the small female nation. Her eyes teared up as wails of fear escaped her lips. Vash cannot bring himself to remember what happens next. His dear little sister critical in the hospital.

And it was all because of him.

"Dude, that's an accident."

"THAT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT I HURT HER!" The swiss accidentally raised his voice against the american. He shrunk himself back, facing away from the other. "Sorry… I didn't mean to yell…"

America just smiled. "That's okay. This war is driving everybody insane. Even I feel like killing England right now." His hand stretched out, offering a friendly handshake to the swiss in front of him. "See you around, Vash. Enjoy your life as a free human. You know where to find me if the need rise."

Vash smiled back, taking the other's hand with a light shake. "A normal human life, huh…? I'll just travel around as Vash for now. Goodbye, America."

The swiss walked away with a small yet rather fake grin on his face.

_ Yeah… Goodbye…_

.

Vash looked out of the window, making himself as comfortable as possible on the seat of the aeroplane. He decided that he will never touch a single firearm again to prevent another 'accident' from happening in the future. He shall live his days as Vash Zwingli, a swiss human who have absolutely no connection to any sort of war, a free man.

"Northern Horizon, huh…" he whispered to himself. The freedom of a country's burden had finally been lifted off his shoulders, but his duty wasn't over. The swiss cannot keep calm, not when every truth remained hidden.

He dug through his pocket to find a message written in paper that he received days ago, the same night of his sister's incident. Reading them back made his blood rush of vengeance.

_ It's not an accident._

A small maple leaf printed on the edge of the paper. The same maple symbol of the place he was heading at the moment, Canada.

"Liechtenstein… I promise I will find this person… no matter what…"

.

Bonus scene :

_One week ago..._

Well cooked dinner and silver decor set on the small dinner table. Liechtenstein happily arranged some flowers in a vase near the window to lighten the mood while Switzerland took the roast chicken out of the oven.

When all preparations were ready, both of them sit opposite to each other during their awaited meal. Their dinner that night was rather fancy.

"Um… Brother… Is it really alright for us to eat something this expensive?" asked the sister in a soft and sweet voice.

The other gave her a smile of satisfaction. "My boss said that it's okay to treat a family member to something nice once in a while, so he gave me a bonus for the both of us to enjoy."

Liechtenstein clapped her hands together, giggling softly behind her palms. "I have to thank your boss for this. And you too, brother~ I'm happy to be with you forever!"

Switzerland didn't respond. He stared down at his plate, eyes dull and spiritless.

"Brother…? Are you alright…?"

The male swiss' breathing became abnormal as he glared at his sister with raged eyes. The silver fork he held snapped under his grip. Guns appeared out of the walls and ceiling, almost as if by magic. The sight was unbelievable.

"Brother?! What is going on?!"

Switzerland remain unmoved. A small click could be heard, triggering the rest of the firearms to release their bullets as well, and all directed to that one innocent small nation. Followed by that was a scream, the scream of his dear little sister.

* * *

**A/N : France is already in America's side. And there will be one more member joining 'Northern Horizon' in future chapters~**


	10. Untold Act

Title : Hetalia~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 10 : Untold Act

At the homes of the two german brothers lurked a few maids and 'extras' paid to kill them. Of course, they knew of this act against them.

Since the cursed world meeting, their country was constantly invaded by outsiders and tourists turned out to be hired assassins.

But those who knew of their existence know of the fact that countries can't die. Yet, many assassination plans against them were carefully plotted, each time resulted same - failure.

"This is pointless! For every night, there seemed to be more extras entering this house! At this rate, we're forced to move to a secret location away from society." Germany smacked the table of his office, the other hand massaging his temples.

Prussia couldn't care less about the threat opposed to them later that night. He got used to the whole fighting against human thing even though it was against his policies. Lazing on the floor, he even got the mood and time to read a magazine filled with male supermodels. "Kesesese! They come, we fight back! Easy as that!" The prussian rolled over to face his blonde brother. "You need to stop worrying and start being awesome, like me!"

Germany wondered how that certain jolly prussian was his brother. Dragging his legs to the mini-fridge in the office to get a couple of beer bottles, he remembered those times when this 'war' didn't exist. "Here… Catch…" He threw a bottle to his brother.

The prussian caught the beer and drank it with joy. "Kah! Beer is the best!" He looked at his Germany through the glass bottle, seeing everything dyed in a clean brown color of beer. "Oi, West. What were you thinking just now?"

"Nothing important that is worth telling." voiced the german, sounding monotone and tired.

"Aww! Don't be like that! You can share anything with your big brother! Kesesesese! Nothing to be embarrassed about!" Prussia drank another shot of beer, savoring the flavor till the very last drop. "I promise I won't laugh!"

"T-That's what you always say. Forget it, it's not important…"

The prussian refused to lose. He snuck behind Germany and dragged the other by the waist, both crashing to the armchair meant for guests. Locking his palms together to pin the german down, Prussia giggled. "You can tell me everything~ Who knows when I'll disappear! Kesesese!"

Hearing the word 'disappear' sank Germany's heart. His emotions melted, surrendering every little argument to his loving older brother, not that Prussia admit himself to be loving. "Fine… Just get into position after this. I suspect another assassination attempt on us."

"Awesome! Now, lets hear it~" Snuggling the german closer in a brotherly hug, the nostalgic feeling of his old times came rushing back to his pale skin. He laid his cheeks against the other's back, listening to that strong heartbeat.

"Well…" Germany tried to free himself from the prussian's touch, but those thin and weak hands of his brother had strength he himself could not match. "I'm just remembering those times when the Axis Powers were together, doing something different when we're supposed to be working. Sometimes I got too stressed out because of work, I just had to forget everything else. Italy and Japan would always be there despite my constant yelling. Then the three of us would spend the rest of our time doing all sort of things. We promised to do those things again, but we just couldn't find the time anymore, even after World War II. Japan would visit me out of schedule, teaching me a lot about his culture, probably one of the few people who help me relax… And there's Italy. Despite being useless and weak during those world wars, he changed. He's now more productive and less futile. He would visit me with his smile, spending time with me not for my strength, but as a sincere friend… I would give my life up to protect that smile I cherish dearly… Yes… Italy is my dear friend…" A small smile marked the german's face.

"West…" said Prussia, slowly pushing the other away. "Are you gay with Italy…?"

"What?! NEIN!" Germany scrambled away from his brother's radius. His face flushed a rare shade of red. "H-He's just my friend, and so is Japan! Being gay is not wrong!" He sounded so desperate to defend the 'gay' matter, which made the prussian think of more ridiculous thoughts. "A-Anyway, don't you have someone you want to protect too?! Like Austria or Hungary!"

"O-Oi! Are you accusing me of being gay?!" countered Prussia.

"Hungary is a woman, brother…" Germany cursed himself for starting the absurd conversation.

Prussia looked away, hiding his adorable blushing face, the red more noticeable under his paled skin. "I meant Austria! H-He's cool…" Who was he kidding. Austria was nowhere near cool, his traits were more to the elegant side of charms. "But yeah… I do have someone I want to protect…" The prussian gave himself in. He let his dear 'West' see his embarrassed face, exposing his true feelings. "A certain Canada… His maple syrup is as sweet as the country himself… Kesesesese…"

"Who?" asked the German.

"Are you kidding me, West? How can anyone forget about that nice fellow? Yo-"

Both of them tensed, sensing the danger coming. Just like every night since the meeting, some 'extras' came busting in through the door and windows. The german brothers didn't react much. It was not like they didn't know what will happen anyway.

"When will humans learn…?"

"They will never, West…"

One of the intruder pointed his gun at Germany, a usual sight for the two brothers. The only thing different about the extras were their headgears. Judging by their formation, they were probably american assassins.

"All of your agents in this compound had been neutralized. I suggest you, Mr Germany and Mr Prussia to follow us back without further questions." said one intruder, doubtless he was the leader.

"And if I refuse?" Germany didn't make any attempt to fight back. He didn't have any weapons on him, same goes for Prussia.

The prussian's intense red eye locked to the leader's weapon. He swore to himself that if his precious little brother got hurt, he won't hesitate to rip the other's head off. Like a king waiting for the torture of his enemies, Prussia sat back at the armchair, zipping his mouth shut from all his murderous intent.

Indeed, the war changed everyone's perspective, even for the zealous prussian.

The leader marched one step closer, confident of his own stance. "Then we have no choice but to take you down by force!"

"America…" mumbled the german. "I see that you do not know of my abilities yet…"

"Oh, of course we do. Our intel finally reached our ears. And here, you thought you killed all of our spies, huh, Mr Germany?" The leader spitted on the red carpet of the german's office and stepped on his own spit. "The power of the voice, huh?! Anyone who heard your command must obey them no matter what. Kinda sound like that Hitler person, who killed millions and millions of people mercilessly."

The prussian's blood began to boil. He knew that they were trying to provoke his brother, and it seemed to be working quite well. He whispered to himself, ensuring himself that everything was under control. "Don't worry… those unawesome people don't know what they are talking about… They don't know… That's Hitler's own fault, not West… West simply followed orders…"

"Don't let their words get to you, brother…" Germany said, his gaze fixed to the leader of the enemy in front.

"You won't easily die, right? So it's still ok even if you have hundreds of bullets in your body, is it?" The leader raised an arm, ready to give permission for the others to attack.

"A-Are you sure, sir?" asked one of the minor enemy pawn.

"Whatever, man. I just want to end this shit. God knows how many of our allies had they killed." growled the leader, reminding everyone from his side about who was the boss of the operation.

Germany's eyes glowed a dim dark blue, unseen by the human naked eye, but Prussia knew. "Drop your weapons and tell everything about your future plans…"

The leader shrugged, firing one bullet to the german's heart. As a nation, Germany didn't stagger, but the pain cannot be blocked.

"We outsmart you this time, Mr Germany!" He fired another shot to the other's shoulder, then the thigh, then a few more rounds to the chest, laughing victoriously all the way.

Of course, it was the new headgears that must've blocked Germany's voice. Unless the other party heard his commands, the german's powers were useless.

The leader shot him a sympathetic look coated by disgust. "You won't win this round, german… After all those sacrifices, we're finally gonna take you with us…"

For every few seconds passed, a bullet was fired at the blond german. Prussia just sat there, his whole body struggling not to move, unless he wanted to 'accidentally' release his inner demon. "West…?"

"No, brother… Let them have their f-fun… Reinforcement will come soon…"

"But West…" Prussia began to lose himself. His red eyes started to glow an invisible red, similar to his brother. Not once did he blink. "Didn't you hear…? They killed the others in the house… Do you still think they deserve to live…? Humans killing humans… What are they thinking…?"

"That's fine, brother. You don't have to do an-" With a strong unmatched force, something unexplainable made the german's jaw unable to move, impossible to continue his statement. Prussia was looking at him with blood shot eyes.

"Shut up, West. You don't need to say anything, _ja_…?"

"Sir! We still don't know what the prussian is capable of!" alerted the same minor pawn who dared to question the leader's orders. "We should-"

The sound of a revolver's gunshot echoed, not the same as the rifle that the leader used on Germany. When he looked at his minor subordinate, a giant bloody hole marked the other's forehead. He looked down to his own hand. He was holding a revolver, one bullet previously fired. Definitely, it wasn't him who fired, was it?

And with that small trigger of an event, fear swallowed his heart. "F-FUCK! ALL ON STANDBY, FIRE!" He was quite shocked when nobody responded. He himself felt his body moved against his own will, as if invisible strings pulled his limbs. "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! WHAT'S GOING ON?!"

The rest of his partners chocked by empty air, struggling to remove whatever it was that bind their airway, scratching their necks until they bleed. On the other hand, the leader just stood there, forced to watch his allies die one by one. "Stop it!" yelled the american leader.

The prussian stood up, his hands clasped in tight grips. "This is what I feel when you shot my brother… Or do you want to see a different version of their deaths…? Humans aren't so awesome without a pinch of red, _ja_…?" With a single snap of his fingers, the rest of the enemy force's limbs crushed, their ribs tearing holes in their chest, skull completely deformed as their body lifted slightly above the floor, dripping droplets of dark blood on the carpet. Only the captain of the squad remained unrip.

When the dead bodies dropped to the floor, pathetic tears leaked down the other's cheeks. Sounds of bones cracking could be heard upon their fall. Their advanced technology had no use in that battle as their defeat was absolute, followed by death.

Prussia walked pass his brother, making his way to the main 'hero' from the enemy's side, his red eyes still glow of anger and power. "Go back, and tell your 'sender' this… Don't ever touch Germany again, unless they really want a war against me…" He swung his finger up. That somehow twisted both of the other's shoulders, crushing the bones, making sure he will never use his hands again, ever.

The other screamed in intense pain, yet he cannot move a muscle from his body. All part of him controlled by the prussian, his body, his heart, his sanity.

The prussian stood up straight, closing his eyes as he twirled his finger in mid air. "I'll sent you back to wherever you came from. And you will tell them my message. But by then, you will have no remembrance of the awesome me…"

He gave a last powerful kick to the american's neck, knocking him out instantly. Prussia let out a sigh, one hand holding his head up as the other hand kept him somewhat balanced.

"…" Germany made his way to his brother's side, aiding him in his stance.

"West… You can't die doesn't mean you can't feel pain, showoff…" said Prussia in a half joking manner.

"I'm fine."

"They said 'I'm fine' is the world's most told lie." smirked the prussian. "Heh… I lost it again, didn't I…?"

"That's why, I told you to stay out of the fight."

"Hey… I can't just stand aside and watch my baby brother being shot." Prussia smiled, wiping the tiny stains of blood off Germany's face. "Who will look after the people after I'm gone?"

Chills ran down Germany's spine.

.

"What?! What do you mean WE barely survived a mission to assassinate Germany?! Why am I not informed about this mission? Listen… You're the boss and all, but you can't just send random people to kill other nations! At least discuss these sort of matter with me! Wait… What?! I don't care who's the boss. What you did was plain stupid! I am AMERICA! So I have the rights to- Hey! Whatever the reason, stop with all these attacks! Don't you dare bring the other country's name in this! What?! I dare you to say one more thing about Switzerland! SHIT! He is NOT weak! Well, HELL TO THAT! No…! FUCK YOU!"

America snapped the phone in half and threw them out of the window, breaking the glass in the process. He laid himself tiredly on the bed in the master bedroom of his private mansion.

Francis Bonnefoy entered, bringing along a silver tray of french coffee set. The side of the tray decorated by one red rose, his favorite trademark. "Hmm? Big brother is here to listen, dear America. What is the matter?"

The american buried his face in a pillow, still trying to get the frustration out of his mind. He finally decided to tell Francis his problems. Maybe that would cheer him up. "It's my stupid military bosses. They had been carrying out assaults towards other countries behind my back. I just knew that they tried killing us countries. They attacked Germany, Canada, Greece, Romania… Even the poor South Italy, the nation they themselves made alliance with! I… I just don't know what to do with those humans anymore…"

"Ouch… Big brother is human too, remember? Don't worry, _mon ami_… They're just desperate. Humans act on their own in the most ridiculous ways. That's why we have to move one step ahead, to prepare a clean path for them."

"How can we prepare a path for them if they don't even listen to us?" complained the american, flipping the pillow around .

"How about this… Just forget everything and drink your special coffee while big brother massage your back, oui?" Francis laid the tray gently on the bed and began to undress himself, revealing his sexy collar bones.

"Dude… No molesting, please. I'll just take the coffee offer…" America smiled. He wanted to tell Francis that he didn't need to be a housekeeper in his mansion, but the frenchman insisted strongly. He would leave everything as it was for the time being. "You're right, France! The Hero must relax! Hahahahahaha!" He fiddled around with the rose on the tray, smelling it's natural fragrance. "Thanks…"

Francis smirked. The thought of him seeing others laugh like that brought great joy to his soul. If only he could somehow make everyone feel the same way.

He was on his own little journey to spread love to the whole world, one rose at a time.

* * *

**A/N : **  
**After posting Hetalia : Aqua Planet ( chapter 10 ), Memories Stronger Than Gods ( chapter 6 ), and Rosary Kimono and The Language Of Flowers ( chapter 2 ), I will stop writing for a few months. Probably until March or Something. As I said before, I write not for fame, but for the fun of writing. The reason of my disappearance is to train myself in writing since I know I have many flaws.**  
**But of course, I will post a new story, "Metal Made" for Christmas. And "Alice Of The Kingdom Of Spade" on March 17, 2012. **  
**Metal Made will be my personal present to Hima-papa for making Hetalia. Hope this giripan will be a nice read for others too.**  
**Alice of The Kingdom Of Spade will be my ultimate Itacest fanfic project. Hehe... Personally, I have a small dream to beat the other itacest fanfic "Shatter", but I highly doubt that will happen. Good day, and have a blessed Christmas + New year!**


	11. Game

**A/N : I know I said I'm on a hiatus until March, but I lost a bet and my friends told me to post this chapter saying that it will stain my reputation ( I don't know what that means. And I had to do many other embarrassing things too ). Anyway, this chapter is a bit long since there is a bonus scene at the bottom. To read or not to read depends on yourself. **

* * *

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 11 : Game

In a library filled with papers scribbled in red ink, the dim light of the candle showered upon the desk where one canadian busied himself with paperworks and a feather pen. His work that seemed endless tired his overworked _human_ body. After a few more scrawls, he laid himself tiredly on the floor, using a thick book as his pillow.

"I have to remember everything… Remember Matthew… What happens next…?" mumbled the canadian to himself. He forced himself to remember something quite important, but the image wasn't printed well in his memory.

Matthew sat up and made his way to a pile of papers on the floor, scanning them one by one just in case one of them holds a clue to what he needed to find.

But in the end, all efforts failed him, resulting only in more fatigue seeping into his fragile body. The needles of the grandfather clock in the library marked the beginning of midnight, singing it's song.

The beginning of his second job.

A job completely unrelated to England that he must fulfill, and also something that he kept as a secret from the british nation even though Matthew was under his powers, not that anyone noticed… just as planned…

The ex-nation Canada pulled the drawer and took out an oddly carved silver knife, hiding it in his coat. A barely seeable note engraved invisibly near the tip of the battered blade. He made his way silently out the mansion where he was ordered to stay inside. By the simple looks of it, a life might end, maybe to a different target, or his own life, or both, or more than that.

The collecting game begins.

.

"Ve~ Does it supposed to look like that?"

"I am not quite sure. Germany-san…? I think it needs to be... remade…"

"… … What? But I followed every instruction in the book perfectly! Then again, maybe I missed something in the instructions list…"

"Ha aha haha~ Germany made such scary faces~ Oh! And Japan? What are these things called again?"

"_Teru teru bozu_. They are believed to ward off rain."

"Ve… But I love rain. They smell nice~"

While the two small nations discussed about the 'significance' of _teru teru bozu_, Germany struggled with his craftsmanship. His hands were not fitted to draw something so delicate on something small. Finishing the final touches and the string, the german hung his freshly made doll with it's unique outlined face.

Taking a few second out of his lively conversation with Italy, Japan stole a quick glance to the _teru teru bozu_ his german friend had made. His stomach clenched slightly before commenting his honest thought. "Germany-san… You made quite an interesting little fellow…"

"Wah~ I want to see it too!" That was a rare moment where Italy opened his chestnut-brown eyes, stealing the other two's gaze for a short while. For what lasted about 2 seconds, the italian retreated behind Japan's back, using him as a shield from the german's handmade doll. "J-J-Japan..! Germany's little creepy doll just looked at me! The poor thing is choking…!"

Embarrassed, Japan took another good look at the doll. Italy was right. The expression drawn on Germany's _teru teru bozu_ looked like it was gasping for air, with it's eyes about to pop out and strained veins visible on it's pitiful face. Japan ran his palm on his own neck, somehow able to feel the same pain the poor doll felt. "Germany-san…? You indeed have such unique artistic skills. I think you should make another one." Even in such situations, Japan wanted to sound as polite as possible.

"It's written all over both your faces… It's okay to comment…" The german sat on his chair beside the bed, arms crossed, ready to accept any criticism like a true german man he was. "Japan! You start first!"

With the sudden command, Japan involuntarily stood up, saluting his respect to his commander, which in this case is Germany. "Yes, Sir! Er…" Despite being told to be honest, Japan didn't have the heart to tell his german friend he truth. "Very unique and robust! Your super _teru teru bozu_ is ready to strangle… um… I mean fight in battle! That is all from me, sir!" He gave another energetic salute before shrinking back to his seat, facing away to hide his reddened face.

Germany nodded in approval, the frown on his face trying to digest the given review. "Italy! It's your turn!"

"Yes, sir!" responded the italian. Unlike the japanese, Italy remained seated in bed, the white sheet blanketed his lower body like a blank canvas. He saluted with his left hand since a needle with it's dripper was inserted to his right hand. "Captain Germany! The poor _teruh teruh bozuh_ is choking! His face is so scary and painfully in agony! Look… WAAHH! IT'S STARING AT ME!"

Japan chuckled over the heavy italian accent of his friend. He secretly admired the silent 'h' that always managed to slip into Italy's sentences. He silently watched as Italy scolded by Germany, wailing and whining about something different from the original topic. Japan felt the need to be silent for the other two to talk to each other, especially since they didn't see each other much lately.

"Japan? Japaaaaan~ Ve~ Earth to Japan~"

The japanese snapped back to reality, blinking his dead dark eyes before averting his soft gaze to the other two nation. "I'm sorry… Yes, Italy-kun?" A small natural smile carved on his face.

Italy stared blankly at the other's face, then burst out laughing. The act alarmed Germany and Japan, both of them panically rose from their seats. When the italian began to cough madly, Germany yelled for the nurse, but Italy insisted that he was alright. He wiped the tears off his eyes, still giggling and coughing slightly. "Scary Germany and quiet Japan can sometimes do funny faces too!"

"I-Italy-kun… I appreciate it if you don't play around like that…"

The german sat back, resting his face on his palm. "_Mein Gott_, Italy… Why do you like to do these things?"

When both of the italian's companion looked away, his own smile dropped. Maybe playing around like that wasn't always a bright idea. He put on his best calming smile he could give, the same smile when he greets children in church. "Japan? Germany? Will you come closer for a while?"

The other two looked at each other's eyes when the italian gave his request, sending mixed voiceless messages before finally leaning closer to him. And without warning, Italy hooked both of Germany and Japan's neck with his arms, hugging them close. The needle in his hand almost came off, but he didn't care.

With a voice sounding no louder than a hush, Italy's words dallied into their ears as the hair at the back of their neck pricked. "_A~ri~vaderci, Germania, Giappone_…~"

The two powerful nation immediately backed away from their weakened friend, their strength sapped drastically from their body. Slightly shaken, Germany swallowed hard and chocked his question up, his fine body built as robust as ever. "Italy… What do you mean by that…?"

For a moment, Germany and Japan thought that they would finally have that _talk_ with Italy, then another 'guest' arrived, leaning against the wall beside the door. Odd how Japan cannot feel the other's presence coming in despite his keen senses. Knowing the guest, nothing good will ever come out of his foul mouth. "It means 'get the fuck out of this shitty room', assholes… Visiting hour is fucking over…"

"Ve… _Fratello_ is extra mean today… That is not good…"

Romano glared furiously at the german, watching his every movement, even the gestures of his fingers. "You, potato bastard, keep your hands off my little brother, you son of a bitch…! I know you've been flirting with Veneziano!" His dislike for Germany written clearly all over his colorful language.

There is no way of fighting the older italian with mere words. All the german managed was a deep sigh as he avoided the other's gaze.

"And you!" The stare Romano used was too intense, Japan had to take two steps back. "I still blame your boyfriend, you jerk!"

"Boyfriend…?" Japan thought to himself, yet he let the italian's scoldings run his mind. He bowed to show his respect. "_S-Sumimasen_…"

"Well…? What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get the fuck out of Italy!"

Before his dear friends leave, Italy whimpered, sounding almost like a dog begging for it's master to stay. "Will the two of you visit again?"

Trying to pay little attention to the older italian, Germany gestured a small salute with his hand. "Goodye, Italy. We'll come by again." Hesitantly, he left the room.

Japan didn't make another comment after his german friend. He just stood still as he looked at Italy on the bed before leaving wordless.

When the other two foreign nation left, Romano released his heavy sigh. He sat by his brother's side and repositioned the needles on Italy's hand. "_Stupido_… do you want to rip your veins by moving this stupid needle around…?"

"Ve… _Fratello_… You shouldn't be mean to them… They're my precious friends…" Italy didn't flinch despite the sharp pain he felt all around his arm. Looking at his older brother tending the needle, Italy can't help but to think about that question he tried not to ask. If he asked, he was sure that his _fratello_ would be very upset. "I am not sick… Why would I need all these needles daily…?" Without realizing it, that question he struggled to keep silent about slipped out of his lips.

"They will help you sleep better…"

Italy was shocked. He didn't expect Romano to answer. He expected more of a 'shut-up' lecture session.

The needles inserted back in place, Italy pointed at the single hanging _teru teru bozu_ on the upper frame of the window. "Germany made that~"

"Ergh… The poor bastard looks like he's drying with maggots growing out of his face…" Romano shrieked, scowling at the doll's popping eyes. "I don't like it…"

The younger italian tugged his brother's sleeve with his thinning fingers. "I-I know he's scary… But he's made by Germany… Germany and Japan are both my dear friends, so may I leave it there?"

Romano frowned upon Italy's begging face before giving his reply. As usual, a tired sigh trailed his breath before actually speaking. "Crybaby… Where are yours and Japan's?"

Italy dug through the small pile of white cloth scattered on one end of his bed, pulling out two finished and well made _teru teru bozu_. The two tiny dolls laid lifeless on his palm. "Here it is…" Guessing they might be thrown away, he was going to miss those little white fellas. He looked away when his brother roughly picked them off his hands, painfully letting go.

Inspecting the handmade items, Romano twirled them around, holding them by their strings. "So this is what you've been shitting about with those two…" He secretly gave a smile when he saw the other hiding a saddened expression. Dragging the chair Germany sat on before, he placed them abruptly near the window, using it as steps to tie the two dolls beside the german one. All three hung neatly with the one with the curl between the other too. "There, you cheeky bastard… Happy…?"

"Ve…" The younger looked into his brother's light brown eyes. He wasn't sure whether he was amazed by the other's attitude or was he speechless by his unnamed gratitude. A series of image flashed in front of him like speeding trains circling around him, choking him slowly. He heard laughter, blessing hymns and other wishes of grace, all with the voice of Romano. He just sat there, staring at his brother figure on the chair, still meddling with the ghostly white dolls. In his mind absolutely nothing.

By the time his thoughts connected with his body, Romano was no longer in the room. The white daylight view that was supposed to be outside curtained by night.

On normal basis, Italy would not think twice to shout for mercy or cry his fears out. But that night, he felt completely directionless. The italian rolled back to his pillow, burying his thoughts under the blanket.

"What am I thinking…?" The smile he forced upon his face ached. "Daydreaming? Hallucinating…?"

.

Russia flipped the pages of an old japanese book as he sat on a couch near the fireplace. After reading it, he threw the book into the fireplace, smiling as he watched the papers turned to ash. "Do you feel that, Japan? Hell is where you belong~"

The entire room was his favorite spot in is personal house. Nobody goes in, and nobody goes out. It was the only place he could be himself without getting told off by someone else. But as a nation, he was valued by the people and heavily protected by the most advanced russian security. He would spend every night alone, reading and gaining intel about other nation's secrets.

But that night was different. He heard footsteps from the hallway outside. Literally smelling a potential fight, he gripped his metal pipe he always kept under his trench coat. The smell of blood in the air aroused the thirst inside of slowly yet unguarded, he walked towards the door. "You are here to play, _da_?"

The door slowly creaked open. One man whom he always fond of took a few steps into the room, staining the carpet with fresh bloody footprints. His one hand held a silver knife, the other dragging a dead woman by the collar.

Even with that horrible stench of copper in the blood, a faint sweet smell of maple syrup lingered around. A little bit relieved at the familiarity, Russia lowered his 'weapon'. "Canada?"

The canadian looked up, panting and twitching as his body ached all over. With the obvious hints that he killed a person, or maybe more, the bigger nation didn't let go of the pipe just in case. "May I help you with something?" Clearly he wasn't affected by the gore.

"I… can't do this anymore…" Matthew dropped the body, an unpleasant 'thud' sound can be heard. "Russia… I can't take any more of this…"

From what he get from his intel, _Canada_ was supposed to be in classified british compounds. How did he get all the way to Russia was something he wanted to ask, but leaving the other trembling and drench in red was rather 'rude'. He walked towards the canadian, gently held his wrist and escorted him into the room. "You must be cold, da? Do you want to talk about what happened?" asked Russia with a smile.

Almost as if by cue, the power cut off, followed by a loud thunder outside.

"Odd how in situations like these, thunders and lightning appears out of nowhere." Russia dropped the thought. He turned to look at the canadian, but Matthew dashed towards him. He didn't have the time to dodge the knife held by the other. Strangely enough, he didn't feel anything, nor did he find anything threatening in front of his eyes, nothing but a tired canadian clinging to his chest. "Umm, Canada? Making my clothes dirty will get us both in trouble."

Matthew didn't respond. Russia thought that he might as well let him be. He embraced the other closer, eventually carrying him to the couch. The canadian remembered the feeling. He was once sat by Russia, now it was the other way around. The cold nation tried another soft approach. He whispered like a child. "What game are you playing?"

"Collecting… Forgive me, but I'm here to steal your memory…"

"Hmm? But nothing is happening."

"Then that's good… This body needs it's rest anyway…"

Russia stared at the other's half-asleep face. "Alright then. Tell me everything when you're feeling better, _da_?" He himself could feel his own eyes closing since he stayed up later than usual. Intended to close his eyes for a few seconds, but he ended up sleeping in that pitch black room, very near to a canadian murderer with a knife still in hand.

He had a little dream. One that he cannot remember, but he had a feeling that it was about a repeating movie played in front of him.

By the time he opened his eyes, it was morning. Nobody in sight. Everything was the same as yesterday, except for the trail of fresh blood on the floor and his stained coat.

"Canada?"

.

Bonus Scene :

_After Germany and Japan left the room..._

"There, you cheeky bastard… Happy…?" Romano expected an immediate '_grazie_' or any form of praise , but all he heard was that faint 've' sound his brother always radiated. "Oi! I did something nice to you. You better fucking-"

His tongue froze. Italy's eyes seemed cloudy, or at least that was what Romano felt. That was a habit the younger italian developed recently. Clinical checkups shown no result and psychologist clueless.

"Nothing to do here, I guess…" Romano jumped down and sat on the bed beside his brother. "I fucking hate you, Veneziano… You get to be here doing nothing but shit and I have to deal with the country's beeswax." Tired of all the spirals of life, the roman italian rested his head on Italy's chest, dragging them both down on the bed. The nostalgic feeling came rushing in, reminiscing those times when the both of them still had the time to sleep together on the same bed as one Italy, not roman, not venetian. "Well fuck me… I guess it's better if things stay like this… I lost Spain, and I couldn't stand losing my little brother to that monster within Italia."

Both of them stayed still like that for a few minutes before the older stood up to leave. Somehow when they both touched, he feels stronger, not that he'll ever admit to his _fratellino_. "Ciao, Veneziano."

Romano dragged his feet outside the room, expecting his loyal bodyguards to be there. But the only two people in sight were the german and japanese nation he dearly hate, sitting on the waiting bench for visitors. "I'm pretty sure the hospital people asked you to leave. And I fucking know they do not rest until you two get your asses out. But why the fuck are you still here?"

"I asked them to let us stay for a while." the german spoke.

"Then they will get a piece of my mind later." Romano shot back almost immediately after Germany finished his sentence.

Germany clenched his fist into a tight ball. "It's not their fault. They don't have a choice." He paused there, unsure of how to continue.

"We heard everything, Romano-san." Japan tilted his shy face up, struggling his character to stand up to the italian who always managed to bring him down with mere words. "Monster within Italia… What do you mean by that?"

"None of your business, bastards."

"I believe you do not understand, Romano-san. We're sincerely worried about Italy-kun. As his ally, we would do anything to help him. I doubted before, but now I am without question… You know about the war, right?" The japanese's lips trembled before he continued. "Italy-kun is too weak for battle…" He looked at his german friend, his dead eyes full of spirit. "But he is my friend. That is why I am here to fight for him. I have made that decision, and the government of Japan approves."

Germany was moved by the other's short speech. He was aware that before this, he hid his true feelings within, convincing himself that Italy would only drag the nation down. But who was he kidding? Italy was his friend, and friends stood up for each other. The german stomped his foot and stood grandly up. "That is right! Italy is our friend, and you cannot hide the truth even if you're his older brother!"

"If it's him getting hurt by physical attacks you're talking about, there's nothing you need to worry about." The softness in his tone shocked the two nations. Germany's tall figure intimidated the italian, but he took a step closer anyway. "We're not that weak if that's what you're thinking, especially Veneziano. We hate and run away from fighting doesn't mean we don't know how to bend a few bullets. There… End of story, so fuck away."

That was the last straw, Germany couldn't keep his patience. The other italian had always drove him up the wall with his foul mouth and stubborn personality. He would do everything he can for Italy and he wouldn't let a small bump ruin his intention.

Germany pulled his handgun out, took perfect aim and fired, all happening in less than a fraction of a second. But the italian twirled to the side, avoiding the bullet. The german set off three more shots, all three missed as the other dodged with ease.

Romano shoved his left hand in one of his pockets as if he was about to pull something out. Japan saw the gesture and draw his katana out in fear of his losing his german friend. With speed unseen, he thrust his blade forward with the italian having no way of escaping.

Before the katana could hurt anyone, Romano kicked it high up to the air as the handle flew off the owner's hands. The italian jerked his hand out of his pocket, holding two similar but different colored phones. The german too busy pulling the trigger, the japanese too busy reaching out for the katana which was still in air, the italian threw one phone to Japan's face and the other to Germany's hand. Distraction gave a few milliseconds of opening, and that was all he needed. He seized the gun from the other and grabbed the katana.

Indeed a victory for the italian as he hovered the blade just above Germany's neck and the gun pointed directly at Japan's forehead.

"THE FUCK, YOU TWO?! A KATANA AND A GUN LOSING AGAINST TWO FUCKASS ANCIENT PHONES?! AND YOU TWO SAID YOU WANT TO PROTECT VENEZIANO!"

Germany and Japan wore shame on their faces, looking away from the italian's eyes. Romano dropped the two weapons, bent down and picked the two phones up. "Look outside…"

The two axis glanced outside, still too 'defeated' to say anything.

Outside the building, Greece and China sat together on a bench, talking. Prussia sat under a tree, laughing at whatever the other two talked about.

Japan's eyes filled with tears, falling down to his knees and sobbed silently. Germany fall back to the waiting bench, whispering words of curses in german.

"You fucking see that? We each have our own little circle where there are others waiting for you to come back home. Potatoes with potatoes, alien bastard cats with alien bastard cats. So just leave _mio fratellino_ to me. And you two assholes better get back to your whatever angels down there."

Romano shoved the two phones back to his pocket, signing the visitor list beside Italy's door. Looking at it, Romano never missed a day of seeing his brother. He was about to leave when Japan held his sleeve. It seemed that the japanese had not given the battle up. He demanded answers.

"How about a fair trade of information…?" The tears still staining his face. "I know how to get Spain back, as well as his memories, provided that it was intentionally caused by a nation… Greece-san told me everything…"

* * *

**A/N : I didn't get to practice much after all... Guess I'm stuck with my current skills... **


	12. October 29

**A/N : Okay... You people are free to stop reading now... This is where the shit stuff starts. Don't expect much romance from this story. I'm more of a shonen type than the normal shoujo type fan. **

* * *

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 12 : October 29

The thanksgiving gathering at the nordic's house didn't spark the life in them. All 5 of them were supposed to be together, sitting around the dinner table while fighting for the first bite of the freshly roasted turkey in the middle. Everything prepared - decorations, food, music, fireplace. But without the rest of the family, nobody really felt like celebrating.

The dining room where it was supposed to be bright with candlelight filled by total gloom, the cold turkey untouched on a wooden tray.

Sweden came into the living room, finding his dear Finland still unmoved since Iceland and Denmark took Norway back home. "Fin… You have t' eat… They will call wh'n they arr've."

Finland didn't say anything. He stared at the wall, curling tighter into a ball on the sofa. Words of comfort weren't the best move the swede could do, so he decided to just sit beside the other until the depression thinned down.

Almost an hour passed, Finland broke their silence, although it wasn't a happy topic. "This is supposed to be a dinner with everyone here… We haven't seen each other much since everyone is too busy with our own national affairs… I thought we'll be…" The finnish cradled his head with his knees, gradually falling into small sobs.

"That's 't. w're going t' Nor's place." Sweden wiped the tears off of his beloved's eyes, giving the other an imperfect smile, though he was sincere. "No one's going t' die. So d'n't be upset."

Slightly convinced, Finland didn't want to push more burden on Sweden's shoulders. He shouldn't let his emotions trouble others. "Definitely… It's just a small fever… Nothing more can happen to a nation like Norway." A small smile finally curled up on his finnish face. "Thank you, Sve…" he said as he wiped his tears which can't stop flowing.

Sweden pulled the other closer, looking him with a much more gentle _stare_. "M' w'fe…"

The finn gradually stopped sobbing, letting the swede touch him that close despite all the time he rejected or denied when called 'wife'. "You always make me smile, Sve. Maybe not always, but at least you're there when I needed someone…" He gave a quick kiss on the cheek, immediately retreating and headed upstairs.

Whether or not Finland flustered by the act was not clear, but it sure did made Sweden's face red and feverish as his heart raced a marathon.

.

"Ice… There's nothing we can do but wait, wait for Nor to wake up, okay?" whispered a certain dane as he held the other close, shushing him and patting his back.

Iceland sobbed and struggled hard to blink back his tears. He had been that way for hours ever since his brother, Norway was confirmed to be…

"He's a country!" sparked Denmark with his biggest smile yet. "There's no way Nor could disappear… I can guarantee it…" His voice began to weaver, sounding unsure of his own faith.

"Denmark… You don't understand… There's something, just something going on right now… Something you must never know. Besides, even if you do know what is going on, you're strong and confident, so you still won't understand how it feels like… to lose a friend, a family… You're never afraid of anything!"

The dane didn't answer. Iceland was right; he didn't know much about what was truly happening. But he was wrong on one thing.

Embracing the icelander tighter, wrapping his rough hands around the other's petite waist and neck, Denmark laid his chin on the other's shoulder. Somehow, Iceland quieted down. "You're wrong… I'm afraid of losing you, Norway, and the others… Getting hurt or lose a limb or two is nothing, but having to say goodbye to you guys forever… It's scary, ya know…?"

"Den…" All the strength from the younger nordic's knees sapped out in an instant. He grabbed on to the dane's collar, wetting his chest with tears. "I don't know what to do anymore… The american government forced me to steal their books… But for every book I took, part of my most important is taken away from me…"

_ Books? Government? _

Sensing the seriousness for once, Denmark filtered his thoughts for the best answer, though his heart still played a major role in his consideration. "Norway is your most important, isn't it? He would be happy to know that, Ice. So keep a straight face and tell that to him when he wakes up! And if whoever government tried to threaten nor, we'll put an end to their act!"

"No… There's nothing we can do about brother Nor's fate, nothing humans could do too. It's irreversible, and it's all my fault…" muttered Iceland, still holding on to the dane's collar tightly.

"What do you mean by that…? God… Iceland… Stop scaring me!"

.

Documents done, meetings arranged, acquaintances settled with. America had the rest of the week all for himself. He would usually start doing his work only when the deadline is tomorrow. But this time, he needed more time to do some private 'research'. It wouldn't hurt to kill himself a little to scrape some free time from the endless flow of duty.

Francis wasn't there with him that day. He mentioned something about meeting an old friend. America wasn't that mean to forbid him from doing so. '_Freedom belongs to everyone_' he believed.

"Okay, England… Where… are… you…?" America said as he scanned through the reports on England's whereabouts. So much for his intel… He couldn't even track England's traces. Even if he did find some proven trails, by the time he went there, the brit wouldn't be anywhere near that place. It was as if he disappeared; inexistent.

"GAH! THIS IS POINTLESS!" His strong fist punched a hole through the screen of his personal computer. "I just don't get it… How is it that he disappear whenever I managed to bite his tail? I'm SO done with your shit, England!" He yelled his heart out to release his frustration, shot up from his seat, accidentally knocking over the chair.

"I'm out of my mind… Heh… Talking to myself again…" He muttered to the giant hole in the middle of the screen. "Mr God, give me a sign, just somethin' that can tell me if I should continue searching for him."

A few seconds after saying his sentence, small sparks flew around the edges of the whole, startling the american nation.

"Whoa! Dude! Is that my sign?!"

More sparks ignited, then small clouds of smoke bloomed magnificently around the screen. The small sparks soon ignited into fire.

America reached out for the fire extinguisher he kept under the table. Basically ripping off the handle of the object, he created an explosion of white dust cloud in the small room. Opening the window would save him from choking, which he did... in a violent way…

White layers covering the place and himself, a burnt computer screen, a horribly broken window. His day couldn't get any worse than that. "You have got to be kidding me… When I asked for a sign, I didn't mean this!" He coughed to get some of the dust out of his mouth.

"AMERICA!"

He heard his name called from outside the window, feeling a little bit of earthquake beneath his feet. He was surprised to find his french partner, standing on a fat, tall tree, 4 floors above ground. "France? What are you doing here?! More importantly, why are you using your powers in public?!"

"_Mon ami_, I love to talk with all the wine and cake, but time is running low. We must escape immediately." The french stretched his left hand towards America, the other hand holding a branch. "_Dieu, dépêchez-vous_!"

"No, man… This is pretty serious! We can't show our powers in public! C'mon. Get inside before anyone sees you!"

"_Dieu vous bénisse_…" Francis kissed one leaf he snatched from the air. Strong vines grew from the thin green almost instantly, binding the american's wrist and pulled him out the window. "Forgive big brother, _Amérique_."

A single rose bloomed from the vine, pricking the american with its thorns. "Oww! This is… getting… ridi-… Fuck… What did ya do to me…?" His vision blurred, his joints too painful to move.

The vines seemed to be moving upon Francis' will. He carried America on his back, using unbelievable nature bending blasphemy to lower them down to the ground.

Sounds of helicopters and sirens filled the sky, a touch of panic choking the french's heart. "_Non non non non non_! I'm too slow!"

"What… are you… saying…? What is… all… this noise…? My ears hurt…" The american tried to pull each word out of his throat, the series of panting disturbed his breath.

"The american government…" whispered Francis. "They know…! The whole world knows! We have to run!"

A stomp to the ground, trees merged from the ground, covering the view of the sky.

A swish of his hand, bushes of thorns painted the ground, making it difficult to reach the both of them.

With the american half-conscious on his back, Francis ran away from the sound as fast as he could, but not fast enough.

Bullets fired. They were getting close. Francis summoned another wave of hard wood to slow down enemy movement.

Lucky for them, they found a sewer hole as they ran, but the lid was too heavy for the french to lift. "America! I need you to lift the cover." He lowered his friend down beside the lid, stroking the other's back so that some of his strength would recover.

"Dammit…! You poisoned me and expect me to help you escape…? You crazy old beard…!" America didn't have much stamina to fight back. He lifted the lid off as if it weighed nothing, impressing the french.

"I have to make it look as if I was kidnapping you, or else they will see you as a traitor to your own nation." He made his way into the sewer first, landing on water. "Filthy…" he said, feeling the water soaking into his boots. "America, jump! They'll never find us here!" He held his hands out in case the other was too drowsy to keep his balance.

America jumped. The french barely stayed on foot when he caught the other. "This is why everyone told you to lose weight…! And you might jumble up your words, so speak as less as you can."

"I'm fat… I'm n-not fff fhay ff-fine…!" America said, fighting to keep his stance stable.

"Can't say I didn't warn you. Now the grand escape…"

Francis clasped his hands together, muttering soft french words under his lips. Another strong earthquake hit the surface, but strangely, underground where they stood remained undamaged. By the sound of things, the damage done on the surface may be severe. Sadly, there was no way for America to see what was happening above.

"France…? V-Vhat did you do…?"

The french gave him a stern look before covering the sewer hole above them. "I can't afford to let them catch us… Sorry, America…"

.

"Ve…"

The afternoon wind breezed into North Italy's window; a perfect day in Milan. Since the massive bombing happened there one month ago, things had been recovering in a steady pace. Some of the destroyed shops reopened, streets rebuilt, the people moving back in.

Italy didn't know how many people were killed, but he knew a lot were sacrificed. His brother didn't bother to tell him the full story either. He could only see burnt old buildings outside of his window, giving absolutely no clue about the people's condition. He wasn't allowed to step foot outside of his room either.

He was trapped… _Prisoned_ by his own brother.

Prisoned just so he would be protected. But not knowing the reason slowly killed his sanity from within. What was it that drove his brother to those desperate measurements?

The italian snapped back into reality. He didn't notice what he drew for the past hours. Flipping through the pages of his sketchbook, his stomach clenched at the sight of every sketch he made.

Tears fell down from his eyes, soaking the coaled paper in hand. "I don't understand… Why did I draw these…?" he whispered as he flipped the pages.

On the last part of the page written a sentence in his own handwriting; a phrase so commonly seen, yet the sickness behind them overflows his own limit.

_'Mortale in ogni sua forma.'_

_ Death in all it's form. _

"This isn't funny…" he whispered.

He wanted to get out, wanted to see how his people were doing, to be with his friends, to talk and laugh with other people. But he had no courage to face his brother, no valor to ask for an explanation. Ultimately, he just didn't want to question his brother. He didn't want to create a wall that might build hatred in him.

But Italy couldn't handle the thought. The feeling of _life_ ripped away from him.

Italy took a deep breath in, softly roaring out his heart's content. "Romano… I hate you… I hate you very much, _fratello_…"

For a moment, he thought he heard a thud sound outside, almost as if someone rushed to leave. Getting up from bed for the first time in a while, he slowly opened the door, peeking outside the borders of his room. Contrary to his thoughts, nobody was there. "… Imagination…?"

Closing the door behind him, a tiny sigh hushed out of his lips. "Ve… More depressing thoughts… I need more pasta…" He shook his head, trying to refresh his mind.

Just like that, all of his hauntings and other dark thoughts disappeared.

The 3 _teru teru bozu_ hanging on the window caught his eyes, dancing stiffly along the breeze's leads. He stared at them, feeling that they were talking to him. All of a sudden, a childish spark of spirit lit inside of him, having the sudden urge to '_break the rules_'.

A sudden tiny voice to follow… Not a voice he was familiar with, but why not?

Italy giggled, tucking his arms closer to his chest. "A quick walk won't hurt anyone, _si_?"

Very slowly, he took the first step out, t hen the second step. The cold, grey floor tiles of the hospital felt nice under his are foot. "Wah~ I've forgotten how it feels like to have walk~"

Strangely enough, nobody seemed to be around. He checked the other rooms. As he thought, empty.

"Ah well~ It's like I have the whole hospital all for myself! This is so exciting!" He said as he made his way down the hallway and to the counter. By the condition of the place, it was only recently that the place was cleared. "Don't tell me that _fratello_ cleaned this place just for my admittance."

Faint traces of burning and reconstruction could be found everywhere. Perhaps that specific hospital was one of the places in the bombing area. "Nobody told me how much area the damage covered. Milan is in my region, so I have the rights to see how my people is doing~" He said as he skipped happily downstairs and to the main entrance.

Before he could open the door to the outside world, the sound of a familiar television broadcast could be heard throughout the place. Away from 'escape', the flickering sound led him to the visitor's waiting area at the middle-west side of the hospital. And again, he looked around to see who turned on the television; still nobody around.

Not even a sound of breath. Absolutely no movement.

The television showed a cartoon channel; a little bit of entertainment for the younger visitors there. "It's been a long while since I watched _televisione_. Feels nice to catch up after a long rest~"

The flat screen flicked on it's own, switching the show to the usual international news channel nobody really bothered to listen. Italy didn't question how the channel changed by itself. He simply listened, pretty much more interested at the headlines around the world than the mysterious occurrence.

_October 29, 2012 hits the world with a shocking truth that had been safely hidden from society since the beginning of man's footsteps, marking one of the most important points in the pages of history._

_It appears that ever since the beginning of a nation's struggle, personified countries rise up from nowhere, feeling and living correspondingly with the situation or their respective people. Yes. They look human like us. Sleep, eat, breath like us. It's unexplainable._

_Though we don't have much information about them, here are some of the images captured. We have yet to identify all of them, but the president of the United States Of America will take actions to reveal more of these 'humanoid countries' through diplomatic discussions with other countries. _

When the screen showed the pictures of his other 'friends', Italy nearly screamed. It took him a lot to shut his mouth with his palms. France, Germany, America, Japan, and a lot other's got their picture displayed on television. He felt the blood rushing inside of him, waiting to claw out of his throat. The last one to be screened were his brother and himself.

His whole body tensed, unable to move. Perhaps that was the reaction of his people who were watching the same news at the moment. The terror he felt, the shock and paralyzation; all of them were pure reflection of the people in North Italy.

_Amazing… Just amazing… Headlines all around the-_

Gunshot.

"Huh?" Italy tilted his head up to see the screen which was now blackened with a hole in the middle. He turned around to see who might made the shot.

A young lady in student nurse's uniform stood behind him, a gun in hand, pointing them towards the screen. "Sir Italy… I'm sorry if you have to see that…" She swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath.

Italy was still too shocked to say anything. The only voice he could make was in his head. 'Sorry for what? And why did you call me by my name? Nobody should know who I a-'

He suddenly felt weak. He couldn't feel anything. He looked down his chest, not very surprised to find a needle shot to his heart. Looking up to the nurse who held a tranquilizer, he asked before letting his body shut down. "What else did you all hide from me?"

The soft sound when he fell echoed through the four directions of the corridor.

The sound of a dead body.

.

Bonus scene :

_One forgotten August, 2012, the nordic nation, Iceland stayed awake for many nights without sleep, without rest. All because of a single thought he cannot throw out. _

A knock on the door. He didn't expect or noted that someone would visit. But he didn't mind. The sound of knocking alone was enough to know who the guest was.

"Ice. You're still up…?"

"Go away, Norway…"

"I'm coming in anyway… As if I'm taking commands from my little brother." The door was locked, but Norway forced on the handle, tearing them off. "… When did you last change the things in your house?"

Iceland sat up from his bed, giving hateful glances at the other. "You're paying for that."

The older nation sighed, walking toward his brother and pushed him down on the bed. He grasped the other tightly, refusing to let go. For minutes, they stayed like that, completely static. Each time Iceland tried to move, Norway would only bind him tighter.

"Nor… You're crushing me. Get off…"

"Not unless you're telling me what is wrong with you…" hissed the nation back, his face stubborn as he looked into Iceland's violet eyes. "I heard about your constant restless nights from your bosses. You shouldn't treat yourself like this. You've just recovered from your 4 years financial crisis 3 months ago. You're still too thin to overwork yourself."

"It's none of your business. And move away from me." Iceland made another budge to free himself, and again proven pointless.

Norway tilted his head slightly down, making their temples touch. "Don't be such an ass and tell me, then I'll let go." By the look on his brother's face, the nothing will be spilled. Another sigh escaped his breath, burying himself closer to the other. "Just say it so I can stop worrying about my little brother for a few seconds…"

"Fine…" surrendered the icelander, knowing to well on how headstrong his brother really was. "It's not important, so don't take it too seriously…"

Nodding in agreement, Norway pulled slightly apart to listen to what was about to be spoken.

Iceland took several deep breaths before starting his sentence. "I've been thinking about… Well… It's hard to explain…" He tried moving his hands for better explanation, but they were locked under the norwegian's grasp. "I hate to say it, but we're like a family now, even though we don't see each other often. As family, I-I l-love everyone equally. But what if I have to choose between sides? If I were to choose saving the closest person to me, the other's will die. If I choose to save the rest and everyone else, I have to let go of the person I held dear the most. I just… I couldn't pick… I want everyone to stay…"

By that time, it appears that Iceland would break down and cry any second. "By any chance, am I your dearest person?"

"Stop being creepy, Nor. I would rather starve than to say something so disturbing."

"Just asking… …" The older muttered. "Fine. You don't need to answer… I won't bother you anymore." Though he said that, Iceland still carry that certain guilt look in his eyes. "Still feeling uneasy with something…?"

Iceland shook his head, refusing to look into his brother's eyes, his honesty fading fast. "It's nothing… The bed is just uncomfortable… Sve said he'll replace them for me next week."

"Liar…" The third sigh from the older nation. "You know, if I'm your so-called most precious, which I didn't say I am, and you need to sacrifice me to save the others, then I wouldn't mind dying. Heck, I encourage you to do it."

With one strong budge, Norway shifted the other so that Iceland's body would be completely on top of him. He locked their legs so the one on top won't fall. Feeling the need, he ran his palms over Iceland's back and waist. "Thinner that I last saw you…" he added. "You're sometimes act ridiculous like Denmark, so this is punishment."

"W-Wait… What kind of punishment is this?" yelled Iceland, but no efforts of escaping were made. A faint shade of pink painted across his cheek.

"Shut up and just sleep…" shushed the older as he brushed his brother's hair. "Shut up… and… go to sleep… You're too loud… And you're the one who said that you need a new bed."

"Nor… Seriously, let me go… This is embarrassing… I'm not a kid anymore." pleaded Iceland, his face grew hot every second.

"Goodnight, _lillebror_…" whispered the norwegian before falling asleep with his legs and arms still holding the other.

But able to lay down and do nothing with his brother like that calmed him. It was as if he had nothing to worry about; stopping his constant fret for a short while; a sense of luxury he was not allowed to feel.

Not after he lost his independence to another country.

Not that the others need to know; it was kept secret even from his own people.

Norway was right. His critical financial crisis which started since 2008 really did shed his weight off. Most of those times, he was asleep, unable to open his eyes. No wonder why Norway grew more watchful over the months since he woke up.

The icelander's body lies limp on his brother, eyes started to feel a bit heavy. In a few blinks of struggle to keep his eyelids open, he finally surrendered himself to sleep.

_ Dýrmætur bróðir minn…_

* * *

**A/N : Things won't get better. Trust me. The smell of death is getting stronger. For those who followed up for a while now, a billion thanks~ **


	13. Two Histories

Title : Hetalia ~ Aqua Planet

Chapter 13 : Two Histories

_November 10, 2012 - Some of the other countries started their attacks, just as planned. The threats under fake names is a dirty tactic, but it's the only one I have. East Germany had been a complete destruction site; a perfect chance for me to revive Adolf Hitler's image. _

…

Russia sighed as he put the piece of paper back into his pocket. He found the paper carried by the wind days ago. A suspicious piece of a criminal's mind in his hands, deciding that it was best to keep the information a secret from his human bosses.

He let his body sink into the snow of a very memorial place he didn't appreciate enough in the past. It had been decades since he visited there.

Sadly, as the paper said; 'East Germany had been a complete destruction site'. Nothing remained except for clumps of ashes remained from the burnt buildings. Even the bodies of the people there burnt to unrecognized lengths. From experience, Russia knew straight away that the attack was recent. What bothered him was that everyone thought that East Germany were destroyed with no traces found and had been inhabited since the same time as the fall of Berlin.

"Yo, Russia." chirped a voice nearby.

Russia sat up to see who talked to him. He felt the irony of meeting Prussia in the albino's own deathbed. Specifically, Berlin.

The prussian wore a pink scarf with fluffy puffballs at each end and white mufflers. "Fancy meeting you here, Russia."

"Prussiya..." Russia's face twitched into a sinister smile, though he meant no harm. "I heard about it…"

"About how the whole world didn't know about the existence of this place and remembered East Germany as it was when Berlin fell?"

"_Da_."

"What about it?"

To Russia's surprise, Prussia didn't find the whole phenomenon odd. He didn't question the other further.

"The snow came early this year, huh?" said the prussian as a way to break the silence. "So. What brings you here? Oh… You just said that you heard about the case… Of course you're here to see what happened…"

"Prussiya."

"_Ja_?"

"You're stumbling on your own words." Russia sounded like a strict commander scolding his rookie. He stood up and shook the snow off of his thick trench coat, repositioning his black scarf.

Prussia noticed that Russia didn't wear his usual fade-pink scarf, an item he treasured so much. Immediately, he asked his thoughts out. "So… What happened to your pink scarf?"

"I threw it away."

"You threw it away?!"

"…"

"…"

All of a sudden, the place stopped snowing. The prussian kicked the snow and dirt on the ground, having deep thought on how someone would throw something so precious even if that someone was the heartless Russia. He stole a glance at the other's violet eyes, feeling a sharp sense of solitude to his heart. He whispered, "No wonder you're always alone. Even looking at your eyes made me feel like there's nobody around. Solo ranger is unawesome."

Russia scooped a handful of snow with his palms, freezing them into a small block of solid ice before throwing it away. "Prussiya... By the looks of it, you are alone too…"

Caught in his own words, Prussia brushed the comment off with his usual ego laugh. "Kesesesese~! If you're talking about the awesome me, then it is another different story!"

"Stop laughing… That doesn't make us any different from each other…" Russia had the sudden urge to strangle the other, then slit his throat with his bare fingernails. It took him all the effort he can give to control himself from performing such act.

"You're wrong." said Prussia with a smile. He stretch one hand out towards Russia, offering to help the other stand. "Come on. Walk with me."

Surprisingly, Russia took the offer, though his murderous intent didn't disappear.

Both of them walked through the ruined buildings, passed countless bodies and craters caused by explosions. The russian can see it; the expression of a dead man on the albino's face. Very slowly, his killing intention ceased.

'Maybe it was foolish to hate something that didn't do much wrong.' He thought to himself as he repositioned his scarf, trailing obediently behind Prussia. Prussia didn't show any disrespect towards him, he figured that he should return the favor. "How was your brother? Berlin is his capital, so how did his people react?"

"Not only the people from Germany, but the whole world thought that this place was abandoned. Maybe this had something to do with the countries' ability to link the past wars to the present, but me and West were positive that what happened here doesn't match any events that had happened in the past. It was as if someone-"

"Re-write history…" continued Russia.

"Exactly…"

Another awkward pause between the two. Prussia forced another topic for them to talk about. "Say, Russia, what do you want to do when all of this war ends?"

Russia didn't expect the sudden question. He never really thought about the aftermath. All the days, his mind were busied by thoughts of finding or hunting down people in order to stop the so called 'war'. Right from the very beginning, he knew that his price for owning the ability to freeze things at will was his sanity, feeling absolutely sure that he would lose his mind before the war would end. And so, why not use his remaining time for himself?

Not that he was allowed to be free anyway…

"I don't know, Prussiya. I never thought about that before. Hmm…" Russia crossed his arms and thought hard. His life revolved around struggle of his people or his own dilemma as a country, so much that he never had time to be free. "Maybe… Maybe I want to take China on a tour around the world? Ah~ Especially the warm places. That would be so nice."

"You remind me of West. It's like he have this special gay feeling for Italy or something. I get the tour thing, but why with china?" Despite the previous battles, Prussia treated the giant nation as an equal; no sign of fear or hate.

Russia giggled, slightly startling the ex-nation. "Unlike the other nations, China didn't see me as a monster or an object to avoid. He never hesitate to go near me, thought most of the time was to sell his fake products to me… Still, he's there when everybody else isn't. I like him for that."

The prussian teared up as he bit his glove to muffle his cries. "That's so awesome…! Russia… You have my approval!" He said as if he was China's father who approved of their wedding. Russia can't help but to fluster red. "Years ago, you can barely make any friends. Look at you now! I guess some of my awesomeness rubbed on you! Kesesesese!"

A not-so-happy smile cracked on the russian's face. Prussia figured that it was a suitable time to shut up. How Russia wished to drown the other's head in acid.

"Then what are you planning to do after the war ends?"

"Absolutely nothing, of course! I will create a new nation called the Kingdom Of Gilbert where everyone do nothing but sleep and relax." Prussia didn't sound serious at all.

Russia began to feel annoyed by the other's attitude. "That is very childish. I expect more from the once great Prussia…"

"You're right." said the prussian with a smile. "But that doesn't matter. I won't get to stay here for long anyway. I'll be long gone before the war ends. Even so, thinking about a place of your own with everyone enjoying themselves peacefully isn't a bad ides. A place where no quarrel exist, no war exist."

Hearing Prussia spoke just broke Russia's heart. Ignoring all the duties, orders and affairs, they both wanted the same thing - peace.

He regretting thinking ill of the prussian. He was the real villain, the real jerk of life to have the thought of murdering the other in the first place.

"Okay. No playing. IF I get to live through the war, I think I would find a small land somewhere in Canada." Prussia took a deep breath in and out. "In that small land, nobody is allowed except for 'you' countries and get to forget all international works and just be together doing normal stuff that a country doesn't allowed to experience."

Both fell silent as they fantasized the impossible Utopia. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give up your worries one and for all. A day all for yourself; an eternity even…

The ex-nation stood still, letting the snow land on his strangely white hair. "Sometimes I wonder, why is it that i still exist even though I lost all of my people… Bleagh… This makes me feel so unawesome…"

"Your existence might be based on something special. By memory perhaps." Russia sounded as if he was trying to cheer the other up, patting the albino's head. "Even if you lose your lands and rights, you can't deny that some of your people managed to escape to other places. Their blood and nationality might not be lawfully prussian anymore, but their hearts might still be the same." He looked at the other's red eyes with his violet stare. "Rebuild your nation and stay here with us."

Prussia wiped his watery eyes with his sleeve before bursting into loud screeching laughter. "Kesesese! You're the least person I expect to hear that from!" He aid flat on the snow, coughing his lungs out and cleared his throat. By the sound of it, Prussia's health degraded tremendously since the last time Russia saw him. "You're not a bad person, I'll tell you that! Take care of yourself." He forced himself to stand up and slowly walked away.

"Prussiya... Before you go…" Russia wanted answers. "We're not so different after all… We're both alone."

Prussia's legs stopped immediately, turning around to face the russian. "Yes and no. We're still different."

"If you want to say that you're fading away and I'm not, that doesn't really prove your point."

"Russia… We're indeed alone. But we're different… I _accepted_ the fact that I am alone…" Prussia moved along his own business, leaving the russian behind.

"Prussia, wait!"

This time, Prussia didn't stop or look behind. Any more of these talk might made him more depressed into self pity.

"You made a small mistake there. It's _in that small land, nobody is allowed except for 'us' countries._ Unofficial or not, you're still a living nation, Prussiya."

"Kesesese… What's with him today…?" whispered the prussian as his figure disappeared from the russian's sight.


End file.
